Velocity
by I'vebeenLOKI'Dyetagain
Summary: A series of one-shots about Speed.
1. Gravity

**AN: This story is basically a series of character explorations about Speed. Because why not? He's awesome. **

* * *

><p><strong><span>Gravity<span>**

Idiot that he was, Wiccan was on the top of the skyscraper fighting the suicidal maniac—one of those "purifier" people who hated mutants, and aliens, and homosexuals, and people with unnatural white hair—and he didn't see that the building was about to blow up.

Speed did see, and he immediately took action, running to grab his brother in his arms and jump off the top of the skyscraper as it blew up just a split second later.

He held tight to his brother as they fell down, down, down, the heat of the explosion searing against their skin.

For Billy, everything was happening so fast, he'd only just barely even registered the fact that he and his brother were falling, the world rushing by at dizzying speed, and oh gods they were going to die, weren't they? This was the end, this was it, he was screaming with his very last breath.

But for Tommy, everything was moving in slow-motion. He watched the building explode in a mockingly beautiful flower of vivid red, orange, and yellow destruction. He saw the reflection of it in the windows of the nearby buildings that he was slowly drifting by. He watched the dark hair flicker and whip gently back from Billy's face, and he could see his own reflection in those terrified, wide brown eyes.

He smiled, even though he knew his brother couldn't see it. He'd gotten them out of the way in time. They were going to be okay.

Spinning in the air, Tommy turned so that he would land on his feet, brother held safely in his arms, bridal-style. The speedster would absorb the entire impact, and Billy would never even touch the ground.

Gray concrete came up gently against Tommy's feet, and he bent his knees to absorb the slight shock waves, before he straightened up easily.

This was nothing. He was a speedster, he'd crashed head-first into solid rock while moving faster than the speed of sound. Gravity was so much slower than he was.

"You okay, bro?" he asked, glancing down at his brother. "You aren't going to make me carry around you like this, are you? 'Cause I really don't want to miss out on the fighting. It's way too much fun."

Billy blinked as he realized they were no longer falling, and they weren't dead. He also realized he was being carried in his brother's arms, bridal-style, and as if he hardly weighed anything.

"What just happened?!" he said, as Tommy apparently decided that he was perfectly fine and set him on his feet.

"The building blew up," Tommy said. "I didn't exactly want my twin brother to get blown up with it, so I grabbed you and jumped." He smirked slightly. "But I'm afraid your cape got kinda charred from the heat of the explosion."

"You jumped from the top a skyscraper?!" Billy exclaimed, eyes wide as he glanced around at their burning surroundings. "How did we even survive?! I didn't even feel anything!"

Tommy shrugged. "I landed on my feet," he said simply, even as his gaze slipped past his brother's face and his eyes hardened to green diamond.

There were still more "purifiers," and one of them had just raised a gun and was shooting at them.

Tommy moved his brother out of the way, then reached out leisurely to snatch a bullet out of the air as it zipped by, glaring at the piece of metal, then at the man who'd shot it.

Billy blinked as there was the sound of gunfire and he was suddenly several feet away from where he'd been standing, his brother next to him frowning at a bullet held between his fingers.

"I really hate these guys," Tommy hissed. He glanced at his brother. "Would you like to finish these losers, or should I?"

"My turn," Billy said, raising his glowing hands as his eyes locked on the rest of the suicidal maniacs.

Later, after they'd finished with the "purifiers" and gotten back to the mansion, Billy turned to his brother.

"How did you know you'd survive that fall? That you could jump from a skyscraper, land on your feet, and be perfectly okay? Are you _sure _you're okay?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Of _course _I'm okay," he scoffed, holding out his hands and turning in a circle to show off his physically perfect being, then zipped off, changed from his Speed outfit into a t-shirt and jeans, then zipped back. Then he did a flip, just to prove that he could. "See?" he grinned smugly.

"But how did you _know?" _Billy inquired, curiously and, strangely, concernedly.

Tommy frowned at him. "Um, because I'm a speedster. Duh. Special physiology, remember? Gravity doesn't mean too much to me. If I can crash into things at superspeed and be perfectly okay, then I can take nice, leisurely fall from a skyscraper. I mean, it's not even that far to fall. It was really boring. Diving off the top of Angel Falls—now _that's _fun! And getting tossed out of an airplane is even better!"

For some reason, Billy's brow furrowed. "You've gotten tossed out of an airplane?"

Oh. That was why.

Tommy just rolled his eyes again. "Perhaps 'tossed' was the wrong word," he amended, before smirking slightly. "There's a lot of things I've done that you don't know about, little brother."

For some reason, Billy did not seem the least bit reassured by this. If anything, he seemed even more concerned. Tommy fought the urge to roll his eyes again.

Whatever.


	2. Injured

**Injured**

They were superheroes. That meant they got into lots of fights with supervillains and other crazy people, or aliens, or robots, or something, that tried to kill them.

Because of this, it was a very regular occurrence for one or more of them to get wounded in any given battle.

It was Tommy's turn to get injured, it seemed. Oh well, it had been totally worth it.

Getting injured wasn't that bad. It was _afterwards _that he hated.

"Thomas, stay still!" Wanda chided, as she came over with heavy-duty first-aid supplies to tend to the gaping wound that was slashed across his chest. "You're losing too much blood. Let me help you."

"First of all, it's 'Tommy' or 'Speed,' _not _Thomas," Tommy said, running away from her to the other side of the room, hands wrapped around himself to slow the flow of blood as he glared. "And secondly, I don't need help. I am perfectly capable of taking care of my own person."

Billy, who had come out of the fight with only a few small bruises and scrapes (though his magic had been temporarily depleted and so he couldn't help heal anyone), glared at him. "You hypocrite. Only just the other day you were telling me that Avengers shouldn't be afraid to ask for help!*"

"Avengers shouldn't be afraid to ask for help if they _need _help," Tommy said, glaring back. "You were in a bad way emotionally. You needed help. I do not need help right now. This is just physical, and it's really only a scratch. It's not that bad. I heal fast, I'll be fine." Then he grabbed some medical supplies and was gone.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>*Took place in my story _Upside Down Smiles_


	3. Circumnavigation

**Circumnavigation**

Speed was running around the world. This was his third lap.

He'd woken up panting and covered in sweat with a scream caught in his throat, so he'd decided to run it off.

He loved running. He loved the way the world stood perfectly still, and it was like he was in his own dimension, the only creature alive. He loved the feel of his muscles flexing, the feel of his feet against the ground, the feel of the air whipping his air and skirting over his skin, the feel of the breath moving in and out of his lungs. He loved how the only sound he could hear was the drumming beat of his own heart.

Speed was running around the world. This was his fourth lap.

He loved running. He loved the way his mind was filled with a fever of movement and instinct and reflexes, so smooth and bright even his own thoughts couldn't catch hold, slipping to the back of his mind where he couldn't hear them.

He loved the way he could run from the night to the day to the night to the day again, feel the sun on his skin one moment then skim through shadows and moonlight the next.

He loved how time had no meaning, and Tommy didn't exist.

There was no runner. There was only running.

Speed was running around the world. This was his fifth lap.

He was the embodiment of freedom. He was both the only real thing in existence. He was a ghost, that nobody could touch, nobody could catch. He was intangible.

He was gone, and nobody could ever keep up with him.

Well, except for Quicksilver. Who seemed to have a penchant for joining his runs and ruining his me-time.

Speed was racing around the world. This was his sixth lap, but that didn't matter.

He was trying to outrun Quicksilver.


	4. Advice

**Advice**

"You shouldn't always run away from your problems," Pietro told him, as they sat on the top of the Great Pyramid, their hair lit a luminous silver from the gibbous moon suspended overhead. The night air was cool against their sweat-covered skin. "Or from the people who love you."

Tommy snorted derisively. "Ha! You're sure one to talk, Uncle Pete."

"I do not want you to make the same mistakes that I did."

"Oh? And what mistakes were those?"

"Not letting anyone in. Not letting anyone catch up. You keep running that fast, you lose everybody."

"It's not my fault the world is so damn slow! And besides, maybe I don't _want _anybody to catch up. Also, I don't even _like_ ketchup. It's_ disgusting. And it hates me. I opened a bottle of it once, and it exploded. I'm not even kidding, ketchup literally exploded everywhere, all over the kitchen. It even got on the ceiling, and the cabinets on the other side of the room. It was ridiculous!" _

"You know I could understand every word of that. And it's not ketchup that you're angry at, Speed."

"If you're so smart, why don't you tell me what I _am _angry at, Quicksilver?"

"Yourself."

"You're wrong. I'm not angry at myself. I'm angry at _you _for ruining my nice, peaceful run. So kindly go fuck yourself and leave me the hell alone."

Pietro watched his nephew speed off, the only person alive who could even see him, much less ever catch up with him.


	5. Haunted

**Haunted**

Tommy's grandfather was watching him with sharp, piercing gray eyes, expression unnervingly astute.

"What are you looking at, _Magneto?"_ Tommy asked, getting right up in the old man's face and jabbing a finger at him. "I don't particularly like being _vivi__sected." _

Erik flinched slightly, but held his grandson's gaze. "I'm sorry." His voice held a strangely heavy sorrow to it, his eyes appearing haunted for a glimpse of a second.

Tommy took a step back and crossed his arms. "For what?" he asked, green eyes narrowing, because it didn't sound like Magneto was apologizing for staring at him.

"For whatever you went through at Juvie. You should never have had to go through anything like that." There was pain lacing through each word of the man who had been contained in a Jewish concentration camp during World War II. His eyes spoke of deep sadness and seething anger.

Tommy blinked, caught off guard for a second, before his expression quickly closed off again, hopefully too quickly for Magneto to have seen anything. "What, that?" Tommy said, shaking his head and grinning as if amused. "That was _ages _ago! I don't even think about it anymore, it's behind me now." He waved a hand dismissively and turned away, waltzing back over to the ping pong table to play some more rounds against himself.

Erik just watched, knowing that there were some wounds that time never erased, some memories that never faded, some ghosts that never stopped haunting.


	6. Perfectly Normal

**Perfectly Normal**

"Ted?" Billy asked, coming into the Avengers Mansion kitchen to find his boyfriend cracking eggs into a skillet, sizzling as they hit the hot cast iron. "Have you seen Tommy recently?"

The blond shook his head, bangs swishing across his forehead. "Not for over fifteen minutes."

When the speedster was concerned, 'recently' meant within the last minute, maybe two. If Tommy was superspeeding around, he could have easily caused weeks worth of trouble in that amount of time.

"Did he say anything about where he was going?" Billy asked hopefully.

Teddy started chopping up some bell peppers with a large knife. "He said good morning, and asked me when and what lunch was, and then told me that an omelet was breakfast food, not lunch food, so he was going to get his own meal."

"Any idea where he would have gone?" Billy asked, wiping his watering eyes and turning away as his boyfriend started chopping up some onions.

"His apartment, maybe?" Teddy suggested, shrugging as he continued cutting, his eyes apparently not bothered at all by the onions' evil fumes. "I don't know. You could always use a locating spell."

"Right," Billy said, covering his stinging eyes with a hand as he groped with the other, stumbling out of the room. "I'll go do that... away from any onions..."

He heard Teddy chuckle behind him.

Once he'd exited the kitchen, he opened his eyes again, rubbing away the stupid onion-induced tears, before finding a couch to sit cross-legged on and recite a locating spell.

As soon as he knew his brother's location, he transported himself there, appearing seconds later in a sparse, immaculate bedroom. The only sign that anyone lived there was the figure sprawled over the mattress, not even under the covers.

"Tommy?" Billy asked, brows furrowed as he walked over and nudged the white-haired boy in the shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"What?!" Tommy said, jerking awake and into a sitting position like lightning, green eyes clearing rapidly as they fixed on the witch's face. "Billy, what are you doing here?!" the speedster demanded, getting up and speeding around to check the door and all the windows. "Is something going on?"

"That's just what I was about to ask you," Billy said, frowning slightly. "I was looking for you, but you weren't at the mansion, so I used a locating spell to find you and teleported here to find you sleeping. It's the middle of the day. Are you feeling alright?"

To his surprise, Tommy laughed at him. "Wow, you really don't know, do you little bro?"

"Don't know what?" Billy asked apprehensively.

Tommy smirked at him. "I'm a speedster," he said, gesturing at himself. "I do everything faster. That means that I sleep faster, too. I can't ever sleep through an entire night. I just take cat naps whenever I need them."

Billy's forehead creased, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Tommy cut him off.

"Seriously," Tommy rolled his eyes, "you don't have to worry about me. This is perfectly normal speedster behavior. Just ask Pietro." Then he paused, tilting his head to the side as he considered. "Actually, I realize that I've never asked Pietro. So maybe he's different, and this isn't perfectly normal behavior for a speedster. But then again, there's only two of us, so what's normal? Maybe I'm the normal one, and he's the one that's doing things wrong. Who knows, ya know?"

Billy still didn't look convinced. "But—"

"Oh _please!" _Tommy said, throwing up his arms indignantly as he turned in a circle. "You're going to start worrying about me, aren't you? Dammit, bro, don't you understand?" His eyes landed on Billy in a poisonous green glare. "But no, you can't. You _can't _understand. You're just too _slow. _You don't understand that whatever world you're living in, I'm not living in the same one."

Tommy watched his brother seem to consider this for what felt like forever. Meanwhile, he busied himself making and eating that sandwich for lunch that he'd forgotten about earlier when he'd hit the sack instead. Then, since he still had time, he drank a glass of water. And then he washed his face, 'cause Billy was still thinking, and he didn't have anything better to do.

The cold water felt marvelous against his skin.

"You're right" said Billy finally, as Tommy showed up with droplets of water on his eyelashes, "I don't understand what it's like to live at the speeds that you do, and it's unfair of me to make assumptions."

"Glad you got that worked out," Tommy drawled, leaning against the wall with arms and ankles crossed. "So, what did you want me for?"

"Before I get to that, can I ask you another question?" Billy said.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "You just did, bro."

"Why are you in a new apartment?" Billy asked, ignoring his brother's comment. "This isn't the one you were living in last time I visited you."

A white eyebrow raised. "You mean the one that you snuck into and put hair dye in my shampoo, and the one that Deadpool covered in Deadpool merchandise?*"

Billy had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "Yeah, that one."

"I don't particularly like people knowing where I live," Tommy shrugged, picking idly at his nails. "Especially not crazy mercenaries. So I moved."

"Are you going to move again, now that I've been to this one?" Billy asked, raising his dark eyebrows.

"Maybe," Tommy said with a wry smile. As it was, he didn't like staying in one place too long. It made him feel trapped and anxious. It was like he couldn't settle down, like he always had to be on the move.

Maybe it was in his nature.

Or maybe it also had to do with the fact that he was still kind of afraid of the 'law' catching up to him.

"So, you gonna tell me what you need me for, or did you interrupt my nap for nothing?" Tommy said, lifting his gaze to scrutinize his brother somewhat accusingly.

"Oh," Billy said, suddenly appearing rather coy as he glanced down, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's just that we have the entire afternoon open, and, assuming no villains attack—ugh I really hope none do—I was planning on watching a movie, and I wanted to invite you."

Tommy didn't look impressed or touched in the slightest. "No, thank you."

"But why not?!" Billy said, and oh great, now he was employing his notorious puppy-dog-eyes.

"Because I hate movies," Tommy said simply. "They're boring, long, and a complete waste of time."

"Please?!" Huge brown puppy-dog-eyes were turned to full force.

"No. Now, if that's all, I would appreciate it if you'd get the fuck out of my house."

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>*Took place in my story _The Tommy Problem_


	7. Boom

**Boom**

Tommy was fast, but he had to be able to see something coming in order to avoid it.

He didn't see this coming.

"There you are!" came a voice that was distinctly Teddy Altman's, as Tommy found himself grabbed around the waist and picked up.

"Oy!" Tommy shouted indignantly, kicking his legs, thought to no effect. "Put me down, you stupid green alien! Can't you see that my hair is white, not black?! I am not your boyfriend! And if you don't put me down in the next three seconds, I am going to accelerate your atomic structure until it explodes, and we'll get to see if your Skrull genes with allow you to reform from that! And if you don't, Billy will go completely Wanda and I'll have to kill him before he destroys the world or does some major reality-warping thing, and then everybody will hate me for having killed my brother, and I won't be allowed to be an Avenger and I'll have to go rogue and become a supervillain, and then—"

"Oh, shut up," Teddy said fondly, ruffling the smaller boy's white hair.

"Okay, changing tactics," Tommy mumbled. Then he started shouting: "MAYDAY, MAYDAY! HULKLING IS KIDNAPPING ME! S.O.S! SAVE OUR SPEED!"

"That's not going to do you any good," Teddy said, as he carried the struggling speedster into the hang-out area. "See?"

Glancing around the room, Tommy saw that all the Avengers who currently resided at the mansion had gathered there, lounging on couches or just standing around.

"Whatever it is you think I did, I didn't do it!" Tommy said immediately.

"Relax, son," Steve Rogers said, placing a hand on the speedster's shoulder as Tommy was placed back on the ground by Teddy. "You're not in trouble. We're just having an Avengers Movie Night."

"Is this tradition?" Tommy asked as he made a big deal about straightening his clothes. "As in: would I be kicked out of the Avengers if I played hooky?"

"No, you wouldn't be kicked out," Steve said, "but we would all appreciate it if you'd stay and do some team-bonding with us."

"Watching a movie is _not _team-bonding!" Tommy protested, crossing his arms and glaring up at the tall blond soldier. "You don't interact with people! You just sit and watch some fucking colored pixels move on a fucking screen!"

"Thomas!" Wanda exclaimed, giving him a scolding look from where she was seated in a chair, legs crossed and hands clasped over her red dress. She was the only one who seemed to be wearing her costume; everyone else was in civilian clothes. Even Peter Parker, though he was sitting crouched on the ceiling. "Language, please!"

"What-the-fucking-_ever," _Tommy said, mouth pulled nearly into a sneer. "I'm almost eighteen. I'll say what I damn well please!"

"Let the teen attitude crap go, Wanda," Logan advised, as he leaned against the table, a bottle of beer held in a large paw. "A little cussin' ain't never hurt nobody."

"Come on," Teddy grinned, picking Tommy up ("Dammit! Not again, you asshole!") and sticking him on the couch next to Billy, who immediately wrapped his arms around his twin and kept him from leaving. "We're watching the new Spiderman movie," Teddy said, as he sat down on Tommy's other side, securing him there with yet another pair of arms. "You'll love it. We're all going to make fun of Spiderman and how out-of-character he's going to be, and discuss whether Peter or the actor is cuter."

"Guys, again, can we please _not _watch this?" Peter practically begged them. "This movie is awful! They made everything up, and it's totally not me!"

"What, have ya already seen it?" Wolverine asked him, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"No! Of course not! But from what I've heard—"

"Everybody hush, I'm putting in the movie," Clint said, smirking as he slid it into the player. "This is gonna be great!"

"No, it really, really isn't," Peter groaned, covering his face with his hands. "This is going to be awful, I just know it."

"I couldn't agree more," Tommy said as he tried and failed to execrate himself from his position tangled in the arms of his brother and his brother's boyfriend. "Don't make me sit through this. Nobody's gonna end up happy, seriously."

"Relax," Billy murmured into his ear. "Learn to slow down a little bit."

_I can't, _Tommy wanted to say, but he couldn't force the words from his throat. They'd just think he was trying really hard to avoid hanging out with them or something. And well, it had been a while since he'd even tried to watch a movie. He supposed he could try today...

And to his own credit, he really, really _did _try. He did.

But movies weren't thrilling when they were pretty much a static screen. And not only that, but he had to _sit down _and _sit still_, and he was starting to feel trapped by the people pressed up close on either side of him and hugging him so he couldn't run away.

He needed to run away.

This entire thing sucked. It sucked it sucked it sucked it really damn fucking _sucked. _

His foot was tapping at superspeed, he was glancing around the room more than at the TV, trying to see if maybe he could catch one of the Avengers' eyes and silently plead for their help.

"Stop tapping your foot," Billy grumbled at him.

"You need to let me go," Tommy intoned, low but serious.

"You have to watch this! This is like one of the best parts of the movie!" Billy's eyes were rapt on the TV screen. Even though it wasn't even as interesting as watching the _real _Spiderman in action.

"You _need_ to let me go,," Tommy said. "I'm asking you nicely." The walls were closing in on him. The world around him was bright, clearly defined, so crystal-sharp it made the movie look like a blurry reflection in water, even though it was a Stark TV and probably the most high definition screen in the world. The warmth from the bodies around him was hot, cloying. Billy and Teddy especially. They were too close. They were _too close. _And he was so, so sick and tired of sitting down. A fire was roaring in his limbs and clawing through his mind, brilliant, hot, loud, searing, desperate, furious.

"Shhh! This is the best part!"

Tommy couldn't hold still. His entire body was shaking at superspeed, the movement so fast and subtle the only sign was that his edges were slightly blurred. But you would hardly have noticed, unless you looked hard.

"Guys, my spider sense is tingling," Peter said from the ceiling. "And it's not from the lizard dude chasing around the spandex-clad stunt guy on the TV."

"Bro," Tommy said, voice soft but venomous. "Let. Me._ Go." _

"Guys! My spider sense is _really _tingl—!"

_BOOOOOOOM! _

Haha! Take that, suckers!

Sure, Tommy could have just vibrated himself out of the situation, but he was angry. He was really angry.

He'd asked to be left out of this, hadn't he? But had they listened to him? No, they didn't.

They forced him to sit on the stupid couch and watch the stupid TV, so he was blowing up their stupid couch and especially their stupid fucking TV.

They made him suffer. He was just returning the favor.

"What the hell just happened?!" somebody shouted, probably Clint but it was kind of hard to tell, as all the Avengers coughed, trying to gaze around the room that was obscured by a large cloud of dust and ash.

"I _told _you my spider sense was tingling!"

"Oh no," Billy realized, as he blinked through watery, irritated eyes. "Tommy."


	8. Anger

**Anger**

"I'm sorry."

"I _told_ you that I hate movies."

"I'm _sorry. _I... I didn't realize—"

"No! You didn't!" Tommy shouted into the phone, from where he was safe and far away standing on a beach in California and watching the waves lap against the shore like a puppy dog eagerly licking someone's face. "You _never listen! I try to tell you these things, but you don't get it! Snails __**never **__get it! You think these abilities are something I can fucking turn off?! It doesn't work that way! Every moment of every day I'm watching the world crawl by, and sometimes I can slow myself down to try to keep pace with its sluggish jog, but it's fucking frustrating! And I know I frustrate everyone as well, but even though I can hardly remember what it was like before my mutation fully kicked in—and even then I'm pretty sure I was diagnosed with ADHD or something—at least I'm still __**trying **__to understand things from the point of view of you snails! I __**know **__you see the world differently from me, but __**you **__don't seem to understand that! And I've __**told **__you! If I could come up with some sort of comparison to make you realize what it's like living at superspeed, I'd tell it to you, but I don't know! But even if you don't understand, why can't you at least __**listen **__when I tell you something?! Why can't you just believe me when I tell you that you need to let me go or something?! And no, I'm not sorry about the stupid fucking TV! Or the couch!" _

"Umm... Tommy?" came Billy's voice, cautiously. It took all Tommy's effort to focus on those words when he was just about bursting with fury. "You know that you were yelling at superspeed, and that, for the life of me, I could not understand a single word you were saying?"

"Fuck you, Billy Kaplan!" Tommy yelled into the phone, before ending the call, and stuffing it back in his pocket before taking off running across the country. "Fuck you!" he said again, appearing in Avengers Mansion and pushing his twin brother hard into the wall. He glared coldly for a moment and then ran off again.

To Billy's credit, he stood there stunned for only about a minute before he stepped away from the wall and sighed, carding fingers wearily through his dark hair with one hand while rubbing his back with the other. "I really need to ask Wanda how she's able to deal with Pietro. She must have some advice for dealing with speedsters, right?"


	9. Understanding

**Understanding**

"Tommy, we need to talk," Wanda said, as she opened the door and stepped gracefully into the room, closing the door behind her.

The speedster's room at the mansion was just as sparse as his apartment. In fact, it was even worse, as it looked almost like a holding cell, and Tommy hadn't done anything about that. Billy had offered to magic it into something more homey, but Tommy had waved him off, apparently not minding the gray brick walls, the plain single bed with its white sheets, or the lack of basically everything else except a boring gray dresser and a single standing lamp.

At least it was fairly spacious, even if most of that space was empty.

Glancing around, Wanda remarked, "You really need to do some remodeling in here. It looks like a prison cell."

Tommy snorted. "Believe me," he said, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he looked at her from where he was sprawled across his bed, arms behind his head, "this is _much _better than a jail cell." Before she could remark on that, he sat up, taking the earbuds out of his ears and setting them and his StarkPod on the sheets beside him, giving her his full attention. "So, you wanted to talk to me about something? This isn't going to be one of those sentimental family feels-y talks where you try to get into my head, is it? _Please_ tell me I did something wrong and you're going to be scolding me about it."

Wanda sighed, taking a seat next to him on the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there even when he stiffened, seeming completely undeterred by his chilly reception of her presence.

"Ugh," he said, sending her a glare for a moment before glancing down at where his fingers were tapdancing against his thighs. "This _is _going to be one of those feels-y talks where you try to get into my head, isn't it? You're going to tell me how much I'm like Uncle Pete, aren't you?"

Her hand was warm on his shoulder, touch gentle but strong. "Your similarities to Pietro cannot be denied," she said, speaking quickly and smoothly—not rushed, but with a practiced quickness she'd been using throughout her entire life while talking with her speedster brother. Although perhaps _quick _wasn't the best word to describe the way she was speaking. It was more like she just wasn't pausing or drawing out sounds. "But you are still very much your own person."

"Gee, glad you got _that _sorted out," Tommy snorted, but when he glanced sidelong at his mother she was smiling.

"Does this help?" she asked, still speaking without pausing as she gestured at her mouth. "Speaking like this?"

"Yeah." It did make it easier to hear what she was saying without concentrating quite as much. _"And now you're going to tell me something cheesy about how you've lived with a speedster you're entire life and you understand what it's like for me, aren't you?" _he spoke at superspeed. His fingers were tapping out a frenetic rhythm against his things, and his legs were vibrating as he tapped his feet against the floor. _"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't __**want **__to be understood?" _

"I can understand what you're saying, even at that speed," Wanda admitted, her smile soft. "And nobody wants to be fully understood, but everybody wants to be understood a little bit, even if only secretly."

Tommy scoffed, but didn't say anything as he glanced down, noticing his movement and forcefully stilling it.

That didn't last very long, however. It felt like pressure was building inside his body, like he was going to explode, and he knew that he wouldn't but that everything around himself would, so he stopped forcing himself still and started his frenzied tapping and shaking again. He needed to move he needed to move he _needed to move... _

"Here," Wanda said, taking an envelope out of a pocket in her long scarlet coat, handing it to her son. "This is a letter for Captain Britain. Would you kindly deliver it for me?"

Tommy took the letter between two slender fingers, glancing at the red envelope. "Sure thing, Scarlet Mom," he said, glancing back at her, lips quirking slightly, something like respect and gratitude in his eyes. He jumped to his feet and saluted sharply. "Speed Delivery, at your service!"

_Whoosh! _


	10. The Snail Apocalypse

**The Snail Apocalypse**

Tommy was lounging on the couch at the Kaplanses' house, keeping a plastic ping-pong ball aloft above his face by blowing on it.

"Ttttttttoooooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

He glanced over to see Billy standing there, mouth moving slowly as he shaped the words.

The ball fell, and Tommy snapped up a hand, catching it before it hit his face, wondering what his twin brother wanted now.

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii nnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedddddddd yyyyyyyyyoooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu ttttttttttoooooooooooooooooooooooooo—"

Tommy didn't have time for this. He was too busy being bored.

Guessing that his brother was going to ask him to do the dishes, the speedster got up, dashing into the kitchen and quickly getting that chore done with, and taking the initiative to dry the dishes and put them away, as well. Then he ran back to the living room and sat down on the sofa to wait out the rest of Billy's sentence.

"tttttteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll—"

Oh, so he wasn't going to ask him to do the dishes? Oh well, it had given Tommy something to do for a few seconds, and he'd been able to do it without breaking any of the china this time.

"Cccccccccccccccccccccccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppppppppppppppp tttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttt—"

Tommy didn't have time for this. He wasn't everybody's fucking errand boy.

Dashing off to grab a post-it note and a pen, he scribbled down the message: _Whatever it is, tell Captain America __yourself__. _Then he stuck the note on Billy's forehead and ran off.

Where to? he mused as he ran, absentmindedly changing direction whenever he felt like it, till he found himself in front of Avengers Mansion.

Maybe Wolverine was around, and Tommy could annoy him.

He dashed inside, the mansion's defense system managing to recognize it was him even at that speed—although he almost wished it wouldn't, just so he could tussle with the security system, because it was kind of fun.

But whatever. Turned out Wolverine _was _at the mansion. He was opening the fridge, hand reaching out for a bottle of beer. Of course. That man loved his beer, although Tommy couldn't fathom why, because what with his healing factor the hirsute mutant couldn't get drunk, and beer tasted fucking disgusting—Tommy knew this because he'd stolen one out of Logan's hands once, and downed it in a few quick gulps, only to make a revolted face at the bitter taste and go get some coffee to wash it down with. After drinking the liquor, the world had gone fuzzy for a moment, but it cleared up soon enough. Of course, coffee was also bitter when drunk black, but it tasted great with a healthy helping of cream and sugar. The buzz from the sugar and caffeine lasted longer than the tipsiness had, but it never actually lasted as long as he led everyone else to believe.

Tommy considered Wolverine for a moment as he was leaning over and reaching into the fridge. He couldn't steal and drink the man's liquor, 'cause he'd already done that, so what to do to annoy him?

He lingered there as Logan pulled out the beer and closed the refrigerator door, and as it was closing Tommy saw a bottle of sparkling apple cider in there, and swiftly swiped it out before the door could shut, and then waited for Wolverine to uncap his beer while he meanwhile opened the cider.

Once the bottle of beer was open, Tommy snatched it out of the feral mutant's hands, running outside to pour its contents into a bush, before dashing back inside and filling the beer bottle with apple cider and sticking it back in Logan's hand.

There was still a little bit of cider in the cider bottle, so Tommy finished that off before washing the bottle out and sticking it in the glass recycling bin. Then he stood there watching Wolverine take a sip of his beer-that-was-actually-apple-cider and waited for him to taste it and realize what had happened.

Wolverine's face slowly twisted into a fierce scowl, and his eyes started moving over to where the speedster was standing.

"SSSSSSPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD!" he roared, taking a step forward. "DDDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN'TTTTTTT YYYYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU EEEEEEEEEVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR—"

Tommy didn't have the patience for this. Wolverine may be one of the most efficient killers and most committed superhero in the universe (_how_ many teams was he on again? Like, every single one that existed, right?), but he was still a snail.

So Tommy ran off again before Wolverine could get properly furious and start snarling threats that he would never actually fulfill, because everybody knew that the seemingly ferocious mutant actually had quite the soft spot for kids. Come on, Logan was principle of a fucking school! He wasn't actually going to 'fillet Tommy like a fish' no matter _how _many times the speedster messed with the man's favorite beverage.

Where to, now? Tommy thought as he ran. Maybe he should visit David?

But no, Prodigy may be a genius, but he was still a snail.

Of course, everybody was always a snail (except for Quicksilver, of course), and Tommy was used to living with that, but for some reason, that particular day, the slowness of the world was driving Tommy way crazier than usual. The entire world was crawling, oozing along. The entire world was infected with it. It was like a fucking snail apocalypse.

He felt almost like it was trying to pollute _him, _as well; draw him into the glutinous reality that belonged to everybody else till he stuck moving at that molasses pace forced to feel the depleting tug of every second zipping by. And if that every happened, Tommy would be normal. And then he'd have to kill himself.

Therefore, he couldn't let this slowness contaminate him.

Ugh. He didn't want to live at their pace. He just wanted to talk to someone at _his _pace for once. But everybody (except for Quicksilver, of course) was a fucking slug.

Oh, wait. Quicksilver. Of course.

On the surface of the Atlantic Ocean Tommy made a hair-pin turn, running back towards the East Coast, then loping along streets until he came to the house that he knew to belong to his uncle.

He knocked rapidly. _"Uncle Pete! Open up!" _

"_What is it?" _Pietro asked, jerking the door open to look down at the younger speedster, and oh _thank whatever's worth thanking _that he wasn't speaking normally, and Tommy didn't have to wait forever for his words to finish.

"_I need to hang out with you! The world is too fucking slow and it's driving me absolutely bananas!" _

Pietro stepped out onto the blackened welcome mat and closed the door behind him. _"Very well. Where should we go?" _

"_It doesn't matter. Let's just run somewhere—__**anywhere**__—and exchange stupid insults at superspeed or something. You think you're up for that, geriatric?" _

Pietro smirked. _"Race you, you footling child." _

They left a vacuum of air where they'd been standing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Footling_—__adjective:_ trivial and irritating.


	11. Velocity

**Velocity**

Wiccan and Speed were standing back to back, surrounded by robots with machine guns for hands.

"You ready, little brother?" Speed asked, grinning in anticipation as the robots prepared to fire. "Because this is going to be _fun." _

"That's _big brother _to you!" Wiccan said even as he raised his glowing hands, vivid cerulean shining from his eye sockets, out of the dark shadow caused by the scarlet hood that was pulled low over his face.

Speed's grin just grew. "I'll take that as a 'yes,' then."

And then bullets were flying, aiming to strike their vitals and spill their precious ruby blood upon the ground, but such was not to be.

For on one side the projectiles hit a glowing blue barrier that was cast up by Wiccan, clattering to the ground, while the bullets shooting at Speed blew up in little bright explosions, his hands stretched in front of him, a blurring of silver fingers.

Once the robots ran out of bullets, a small button on the chests started blinking red, accompanied by a beeping noise, both noise and flashes getting faster and faster.

"Uh, Tommy?" Wiccan said, "I think all these robots are going to self-destruct."

"Hold on," Speed said, bending down so that his brother could hop onto his back and wrap his arms around the speedster's neck. "We're going to get out of here. And if my velocity starts to make you sweat then just _don't let go." _

A blur of green and silver and black and red, and the exploding robots were left far behind them.

Wiccan's arms tightened around his brother's neck. "This is _awesome!" _he whooped, beaming, head bent down and resting on the speedster's right shoulder.

Speed grinned. "I know, right?"


	12. Lost and Found

**Lost and Found**

Whenever any of the Avengers lost something, they immediately went to Tommy. Not because they thought he'd stolen whatever it was that they'd lost, but because he was best person at finding things.

"Speed, have you seen my phone?" It had fallen between the couch cushions.

"Hey Speed, do you know where I left my keys?" They were in the refrigerator. Why would you leave them there?

"Oy little brother, where's my favorite jacket?" Tommy had borrowed it. He tossed it at his brother's face. There you go, _little brother. _

"Tommy, do you know where the Quinjet's at?" Flying over the Atlantic Ocean, currently.

"Have you seen my tux?" No. It got burned up when you were attacked at that fancy party a few months ago, remember? Go buy a new one.

"Hey Speed, have you seen my other shoe?" Here you go. Wolverine was chewing on it. Sorry, just kidding—it got kicked under the couch and was attacked by Jarvis's vacuum.

He wasn't just good at finding misplaced objects. He was good at finding people, too.

"Young one, hast thou encountered the Captain this morn?" Tommy had gone on a jog with him. Then they'd come back, and Steve had hit the showers. Then he'd left, saying that he was going to Avengers Tower to talk with Tony about something. Try looking there. Sixty-fourth floor. The stairs.

"Hey kid, somebody took my motorcycle. I wanna know who it is and where they are." It was Kid Omega. He dropped by, wiped the minds of everyone who saw him—well, everyone 'cept one, of course—and then stole your motorcycle and drove off with it. Currently riding back to the Jean Gray School. Without a helmet, too.

"Tommy, have you seen my boyfriend?" Yeah, he's out buying groceries, because _somebody_—cue shifty eyes—emptied the fridge when they came back from a nice long run around the world.

"Where's your mother?" Taking a shower. You probably shouldn't bother her right now.

"Do you happen to know where Logan is?" Not at the mansion. Can't tell you any more than that. It's top secret. As in, anybody who knows has to be killed. So you don't want to know.

"Have you seen Stephen Strange?" No. He's not anywhere on Earth. Must be off in some other dimension.

All they had to do was ask, and moments later either the misplaced object was in their hands or they would have their answer, and Tommy would smirk at them.

Tommy didn't mind searching for misplaced things or people. He enjoyed it, actually. It gave him a mission. Something to do. Something to ease the incredible boredom.

"Hey, have you seen my twin? Because I really want to hang out with him, but he's always running off." Haha, Billy. Very funny.

But I'm not running off right now, am I?


	13. Terror

**Terror**

Tommy knew terror intimately.

He was always so brave, so cocky, so arrogant, so fearless. The larger the enemy they faced, the larger the grin that spread across his features.

Fighting, no matter the odds, never scared him. It was things he couldn't fight that scared him.

It was things like being trapped, helpless, strapped down to a cold metal table while he was probed, vivisected, injected with unknown substances, tortured to determine the limit of his pain tolerance.

It was things like being locked in a claustrophobic jail cell, no space to move, nothing to do but shiver with fear and dread. Things like being trapped and unable to escape.

Things like a cold voice saying, '_Run, boy. Run,' _and having all manner of projectiles fire at him while he was trapped in a room that he couldn't get out of, or having other mutants—_monsters_—sicked on him like dogs.

Feeling so much pain he thought he would die, but knowing that he'd never be allowed that peace.

Knowing that he lived for the entertainment of some sick doctors, knowing that he wasn't even a person, that he was nothing but a tool, something to be crafted and molded and cut and bent and broken and stuck back together and created into a weapon.

Knowing that once they succeeded, there wouldn't be anything left of him. He would be broken, dead—_worse_ than dead. He would be an empty husk, put to whatever evil use his masters willed.

Knowing that his body wasn't his own. That his mind wasn't his own. That his life wasn't his own.

These things were just memories, now, but they still woke him up at night. He stuffed them deep, deep into the darkest corners of his mind, locked them behind as many doors as he could throw up.

But when he slept, they always managed to creep out. They flowed through cracks, oozed out keyholes, seeped through walls, flowing over him, into his mouth, his nose, his ears, his eyes.

When he slept, he drowned. Terror seized him and dug its claws deep into his chest. His heart beat faster, harder, louder, till he thought he'd get a heart attack, fall down dead like a rabbit that was being preyed upon and could no longer take the stress or the fear, the knowledge of its demise.

He woke up choking on screams so often he wondered at how his throat wasn't raw with them. But at least he'd learned, in that terrible place, to keep himself quiet, to lock all noise and emotions away and not show any weakness, not cry or scream, not show pain or hurt or terror. (_Especially _not terror. Terror was like blood in the water when you were surrounded by sharks.)

At least he'd learned enough to pretend he wasn't completely fucked up in the head.


	14. Victimized

**Victimized**

Tommy never talked to anybody about what had happened to him. About what he dreampt about, what woke him up and kept him awake, running and running and running until he stumbled back to his apartment starving and drenched with sweat, muscles spasming from exertion.

Sometimes, right after he woke up, when he glanced down at his flesh he could see the myriad of scars that would mar his skin, if he didn't heal so quickly and cleanly as he did. Even when the dark lines of scar tissue would fade from his vision, he could still feel the rise of them on his skin for the next minute, before that sensation too faded away.

The nightmares were stupid, he knew that. He wasn't back in Juvie. He had friends now, even—dare he say it—_family, _and they'd never let him go back. They'd never let anything like that happen to him again, he was sure. He thought maybe they actually cared about him. In fact, he _knew _that they cared about him. It was just hard to reconcile with, after having lived so long knowing that he could rely on nobody but himself, knowing that not a single person in the world would know or care if he died.

Before the Young Avengers had saved him and he'd joined the team, he'd never really known what it felt like to love or be loved—which made him sound like a stupid sob story, and he hated that, because a sob story he _wasn't_—but not even the people who were his blood parents, the Sheperds, had really cared for him. They'd divorced when he was still nothing more than a toddler, then he'd been figuratively tossed between their two houses, neither of them really wanting to deal with a kid, especially one that was already showing symptoms of ADHD. And maybe his father had hit him, and maybe his mother had ignored him, and maybe he'd gotten into petty crime (he'd discovered he was quite the thief) and gotten in trouble with the cops even before he accidentally blew up his school (he'd felt ill, like his entire body was going to explode, and had asked to go to the restroom, but had only managed to stagger out into the hall and collapse to the floor shaking violently before the building blew up around him), and maybe his 'parents' had signed all his rights away to Juvie and given their permission for his jailers to do _anything _to him, and maybe they'd told him that they couldn't even stand the thought of their son being a mutant and they didn't want anything to do with him ever again.

But whatever, he was past that, he really was. He now had people who cared about him—more than he felt comfortable being cared about—and who were willing to help him, and just that knowledge was enough.

He didn't need help—there was no help to be had. And he didn't need pity. _Especially _not pity.

He was not weak. He was not some poor, abused kid.

He was a superhero.

This burden, the memories, what he went through—it just made him stronger. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." He knew the phrase, of course. Who didn't? It was used so often that it was probably a cliché by now. But is it not true?

Just take Magneto, for example. He lived through the Jewish concentration camps during World War II, and now look at him. One of the most powerful mutants alive. A strong, brutal, powerful man, who nevertheless held compassion, and turned out to be a not-all-that-bad grandfather to have. But he was a man that anybody would be terrified to mess with. A man who could probably make anyone crap their pants.

And then take Wolverine. He'd also been experimented on. Adamantium fused to his very bones. Turned into a living weapon, covered with wires and batteries, not in control of himself until the scientists had lost control of him, and he had killed every single one of them. Wolverine: the best there is at what he does, but what he does best isn't very nice. Because what he does best is killing people. That's the cold, hard truth. He's a killer. But he's also an Avenger. And inside his tough exterior, Logan is one hell of a softy.

Both had been victims of horrible things. Both were now some of the most motherfucking badass people out there, and worked to prevent what had happened to them from happening to anyone else.

Of course, they'd failed, in Tommy's case, but they couldn't be blamed. Though he knew that Magneto definitely felt guilt about not being able to prevent what had happened to Tommy, but there was nothing the Master of Magnetism could have done. He hadn't known.

And Tommy was fine, now. He was going to allow himself to be a victim ever again.


	15. Questions

**Questions**

Magneto was standing on the island of the now rebuilt Utopia, staring out at across the sky as if there was something there to be seen in the endless blue.

His cape fluttered in a sudden strong wind.

"Grandfather," Tommy said, appearing next to him.

Erik glanced at the boy, smiling slightly, before turning his gaze back to the horizon. "Tommy," he greeted. He'd finally been cured of the affliction of calling his grandson the hated name 'Thomas.'

"I have a question," the boy said briskly and without preamble, though there was a hint of uncertainness in his voice that was unusual of him.

"I shall do my best to answer it," Erik said, his voice a low baritone.

"Are you still haunted by the memories?"

The lad didn't have to specify what he was talking about. Erik knew.

"Yes," he said, after a pause.

"They don't ever go away?"

"No," he said, because he wasn't in the habit of lying. His gaze was still straight ahead, but he could see the speedster shifting in the corner of his eye, scuffing at rocks with a shoe that left marks of melted rubber.

The teen's voice cracked, just slightly, as he asked: "They don't ever fade?"

"A little," Erik said. "Pain, sorrow, grief, it all fades in time. It does not go away, but it becomes more bearable."

They stood there in silence for several moments, just watching the waves and the shorebirds, the dark clouds drifting towards them. They didn't need to talk about what had happened to either of them. The mutual empathy was enough.

"The Blackbird's returning," Tommy said, minutes before Erik was able to make out the speck of a dark plane on the horizon. "That means Cyclops and the others. They probably wouldn't want to see me here. I should go."

"I'll come visit again soon," Erik said, turning and putting a hand kindly on the boy's shoulder. "Thank you for coming, Tommy. It was nice to speak with you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Tommy shrugged. "I really only came to let you know that Billy made his move, finally," the speedster said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of a jacket pocket and handing it to Erik. "This whole long-distance-chess-game thing seems ridiculous to me. But I'll probably be back soon for your move, since Billy's going to be bothering me about it. You've gotten him addicted to that game. I can't thank you enough for that, seriously," he said sarcastically, "because now Billy is even _more _boring." Then he waved lazily and sped off.

Erik smiled slightly as he watched the long slashing splash that his grandson's footsteps left on the surface of the ocean.


	16. Purr

**Purr**

Tommy was not a cuddly person.

There was no way that he would ever be caught snuggling, except under very extreme circumstances.

This just so happened to be one of those circumstances.

See, it was all Billy's fault. It was Billy's idea to visit Wundagore in the first place, as some sort of brotherly-bonding trip in the first place. And as far as Tommy was concerned, Billy had probably magicked the monsters there, too, because how and why _else _would monsters from another plane of existence, or alternate reality or whatever, fall through the fabric of reality into the town of Mount Wungadore just when they happened to be there? And it was Billy's fault that he'd gotten his own stupid ass injured, even if he'd banished the monsters in the process.

But if Billy hadn't decided to be an idiotic, self-sacrificial idiot, then he wouldn't be lying unconscious on a bed in a hotel room in Wundagore with his magic completely drained, and Tommy wouldn't be standing there with his arms crossed and glaring at his unconscious brother because Billy was lying on the only bed in the room, and Tommy technically _could _sleep on the cold, hard floor, but he really didn't want to.

So this resulted in him crawling into the bed with his twin brother, and trying to fall asleep.

Which he eventually did, even though it took a while due to the fact that he didn't like the physical contact of his brother lying next to him, their shoulders touching, so he'd curled up on his side and scooted to the very edge of the bed where he was in precarious danger of falling off. Not only that, but Billy apparently pulled covers, even when he was conked out from a battle where he'd exhausted all his energy reserves completely.

Tommy didn't even realize he'd fall asleep until something woke him up, that something being his twin brother. Billy was half-awake and was pulling Tommy closer, wrapping an arm around him and resting his head on the speedster's chest, sighing contentedly.

Billy was a very cuddly person.

"I'm not Teddy," Tommy grumbled.

"I know," Billy murmured, eyes closed and he nuzzled closer, ear pressed against the speedster's chest right above his heart. "You're my speedy twin. I can hear your heart purring."

"My heart is purring?" Tommy asked, raising a white eyebrow. The witch was obviously delirious with exhaustion.

"Mm-hmm," Billy hummed as he snuggled impossibly closer. "Your hear beats so fast it's not a drumbeat, it's a steady purring. Like an engine."

"Great," Tommy said sarcastically. "My heart is a purring engine. How fantastic." And damn his tired mind for not being able to come up with any good quips.

"Are you breathing?" Billy asked, through he still didn't open his eyes. His hair was a swash of black against his brother's white t-shirt.

"What? Of course I'm breathing!" Tommy said somewhat indignantly. "If I wasn't breathing, my heart wouldn't be beating—or purring, or whatever—and I wouldn't be alive, now would I?"

Billy hummed. "You breathe fast, too. I can't feel your inhales and exhales. It's just like you're a vibrating pillow."

"A purring engine, and now a vibrating pillow," Tommy groaned, giving up trying to glare at his brother and letting his head tilt back to stare at the ceiling above him, counting the knots in the wood. "You are just full of compliments tonight, little brother. You sure know how to flatter a guy. You say this kind of thing to Teddy, too?"

"No. Teddy's heartbeat is a bass drum."

"Right," Tommy said. There were forty-three knots in the wood ceiling above him. "Glad we've got that cleared up. Now, can we both agree that you're a blithering idiot?"

"Sleep, now?" Billy mumbled languidly, ignoring the petty insult and getting straight to the point.

Tommy let his eyes slide closed, letting out a swift and weary sigh, muscles relaxing in his brother's embrace. "Yes, sleep."


	17. Speed Freak

**Speed Freak**

"Doesn't this plane go any _faster?" _Tommy complained, huffing as he crossed his arms and flopped back into his seat.

Clint glanced at the Blackbird's speedometer, which was clocked at over Mach 4. "Um..."

"You should put on your seatbelt, Tommy," said Steve from the row across from him.

"Why the hell would I need to wear a seatbelt when this hunk of metal is going too freaking _slow!" _the speedster complained, turning sideways in his seat and then leaning backwards over the armrest so he could look at Captain America upside-down, white hair hanging towards the floor. "I can _sleepwalk _faster than this! How fast are we going?"

"Over Mach 4," came Clint's answer.

"See?!" Tommy said, still bent backwards over the arm rest as he pointed a silver finger at Steve. "This is _slow!" _

"Tommy," Billy said in annoyance from the seat behind his brother. He was all strapped in, despite the fact that it was rather uncomfortable with his cloak. "You are _such _a speed freak."

"And you're a reality-warping witch and a super-nerd," Tommy countered, sitting up and kneeling backwards on his seat to raise a white eyebrow at his brother. "What's your point?"


	18. The Bright Side of Life

**The Bright Side of Life**

Billy was glaring out the window at the world in general

"Why so serious, bro?" Tommy asked, zipping from somewhere likely rather far away to sit next to his brother. "You're just sitting here inside, when there's a whole fucking _world _out there!" The speedster gestured behind him at the window.

"It's raining," Billy stated tonelessly.

Indeed, raindrops were pattering hard against the pane of glass, streaking the view of the city into abstract strokes of color.

"So?" Tommy said, waving a hand dismissively. "Bring a raincoat, or an umbrella, or both!"

"You're soaked," Billy told him, eying Tommy's dripping form in disapproval.

"So?" Tommy asked, raising an achromatic eyebrow.

"You're getting my seat wet."

"Fine," Tommy said, giving a longsuffering sigh as he stood up, his whole body becoming a blur as he vibrated, or perhaps shivered, violently. When he stopped, he was perfectly dry. "There," he said, crossing his arms and smirking smugly at his brother. "All dry. Now, are we going out today or what?"

"I don't want to," Billy said, looking away from his brother and back to the rainy window.

"And why not?" Tommy demanded as he spread his arms. "It's morning. The day is still young. _We _are still young. And we're alive. Let's go live while we've got the time! Life is short, you know."

Tilting his head to stare at his brother, Billy remarked, "That's rather ironic, coming from you. Don't you have more time than you know what to do with?"

"Yeah, so let's go _do _something," Tommy said emphatically.

Billy sighed, turning away. "It's supposed to rain all day. Teddy was called off on a mission by Captain America. Apparently they needed a shapeshifter for something, but a reality-warping witch would only have gotten in the way. I don't know when he'll be back. It's supposed to start hailing later today."

"Ugh, you are _such _a killjoy!" Tommy exclaimed dramatically, punching his brother in the shoulder. "It's like you're _determined _to be miserable or something."

"The best of us can find happiness in misery," Billy grumbled, rubbing his shoulder where he'd been punched and looking out from behind black bangs to glare at the speedster.

Tommy snorted. "Did you just quote Fall Out Boy at me?!" Then he was gone, only to reappear a moment later with Billy's scarlet raincoat, tossing over the witch's head. "Come on! Let's go somewhere!"

"No," Billy grumbled, pulling the raincoat from his head and shoving it onto the floor, pulling up his knees to hug to his chest. He stared determinedly out the window.

"Come ooooon," Tommy wheedled, poking the brunette in the side with the end of an umbrella he was suddenly holding. "You and me. A walk in the rain. A nice, warm, cozy coffee shop. Steaming, delicious coffee. That brotherly bonding stuff you're always talking about. It'll be fun!"

Billy glared at him. "You're not going to stop bothering me until I go with you, are you?"

"Nope!" Tommy agreed gleefully, still poking the witch with the umbrella. "Sooooooo," he drawled out, "Are you coming? Huh? Huh? Or do I need to keep poking you?"

Billy sighed, somewhere between weary and exasperated, before he unfolded from the ball he'd curled into and shoved the umbrella away from him, standing up. "Fine," he relented, picking his raincoat up off the floor. "But you're paying for my drink."

"There you go!" Tommy said, putting one arm around his brother's shoulder, making an 'and behold' gesture in front of them with the other. "Here's some Monty Python for you: always look on the briiiight side of life!"

"There is no bright side," Billy complained. "It's raining. It's dark, and it's dreary, and it's wet."

"Ugh," Tommy said, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. "You are _so _serious, little brother!" He sped off, then returned wearing Jeff Kaplan's long black raincoat, and Jeff Kaplan's wide-brimmed waterproof hat. "Good thing you have me to get you off your ass and force you to enjoy your life!" His grin was self-satisfied. "Now put on your jacket, let's go!"

A few minutes later, and they were walking down the streets of New York city, huddled together under one umbrella. Which just so happened to be one of Billy's little brothers' umbrellas, and was child-sized, with a Spiderman design on the material. But Billy could have sworn that they'd started the walk with the large black umbrella that was his mom's.

"You switched out the umbrellas," Billy accused his brother, even as he hugged close to him to stay under the protection of the rainproof material spread over the speedster's head. "You jerk."

"Aww, but this umbrella is so much more _fun!" _Tommy grinned, before bumping Billy's hip with his own and pushing the mage out from under the safety of the umbrella and into the pouring rain.

"Damn you, Tommy!" Billy cried, as Tommy laughed and jogged, at a normal human pace, down the sidewalk ahead of Billy, forcing the witch to chase after him. "Give me that umbrella!"

Switching around so that he was running backwards, Tommy smirked at his brother, staying just out of arm's reach. "Are you enjoying yourself yet, little bro?"

"NO!"


	19. Leaves

**Leaves**

Wolverine was in the garden of Avengers Mansion, raking all the fallen leaves into a pile.

Just as he'd cleared about half of the lawn, there was a huge gust of wind, scattering the pile back all over the grass.

Growling, Wolverine started raking them up again. He'd gotten to the point when the pile was slightly larger than it had been before the wind scattered, when the wind picked up and sent leaves spraying everywhere _again. _

Logan was getting angry.

He began raking the leaves back into a pile.

This time he didn't even get very far before _fwhoosh! _Leaves everywhere.

"Dammit!" Logan snarled, throwing the rake onto the ground in frustration.

_Fwoosh!_ "Hey Wolvie!"

Logan turned to see Speed standing there, decked out in his green and silver costume for who-knew-what-reason, seeing as Logan knew for sure that there weren't any disasters going on, because if there'd been anything that needed the Avengers, or any other superhero team, to deal with it, Wolverine would have been there.

"Why are you raking the leaves?" Tommy asked, looking down to nudge the fallen rake with his foot. "Seems kinda pointless, don't you think? And isn't that the job of the gardeners or whatever?" Then, almost as an aside, he added: "Avengers Mansion has gardeners, right? I mean, there's no way that Jarvis could take care of everything in the mansion as _well _as the garden." He stared at the rake some more, and then over at Logan, and then back down at the rake, and then at Logan, as if trying to put the pieces together in a puzzle that just didn't fit. "And since when does _Wolverine _rake leaves in his spare time?"

The hirsute man was snarling at him, lip pulled back and teeth bared, the hair on his head seeming to bristle like a heckled cat. Or maybe a heckled wolverine? That was the mutant's namesake, after all.

"Since I _decided to!"_ Logan growled, stalking up to the speedster with the threatening expression he used on the students in the Jean Gray School when they pissed him off. "Now, since _you _kept scatterin' my leaf piles, _you _can rake 'em back up!"

To Tommy's credit, he didn't so much as flinch, seeming completely unintimidated. White eyebrows raised behind orange goggles and he grinned impishly.

"You want me to rake the whole garden, or just the lawn?" Tommy asked smoothly.

Logan regarded him for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "Yer a speedster," he said finally. "Y'can get the entire yard raked up in no time, I'm sure."

Tommy's grin grew worryingly large. "Aye aye, sir!" A mocking salute, and then he started moving too fast to be seen, stirring up wind all through the garden and whipping Wolverine's dark hair that stuck so stubbornly up in two points at the back of his head.

The force of the wind increased, till Logan had to shield his eyes from all the dirt and leaves everywhere. He was starting to feel like he was standing in the eye of a tornado.

Fuck that, he _was _standing in the eye of a tornado.

And then the air stilled, and Logan found himself standing in the middle of a huge pile of leaves that reached up to the middle of his chest.

"There you go!" Speed said, standing several feet away, grinning and leaning against the rake that he hadn't even used. "Leaves all swept into a nice pile!"

Then he dropped the rake and ran away laughing, leaving a snarling, growling, furious Wolverine to climb out of the enormous pile of leaves.


	20. Death

**Death**

Tommy was no stranger to death.

Even before Cassie died and Vision was destroyed, Tommy knew death. He knew it better than anyone else on his team, sheltered kids that they were. They were playing superhero, but didn't understand the risks, not really. They couldn't feel how closely death stalked them.

One second you could be alive, and then, unexpectedly, the next instant you could be dead.

Tommy knew this. He'd seen it happen too many times in Juvie, seen the frozen expressions of mutants that had their lives torn from them—sometimes by his own hand, sometimes not.

Yes, he'd killed. In Juvie, you had to kill in order to survive. They tossed you in this arena with one or more other mutants, the place full of death traps, the words of the doctors crackling over the loudspeakers and egging you on, and you were stuck there until only one of you had survived.

They were fights to the death, and Tommy was a survivor. No matter how much he hurt, no matter how bad it got, no matter how much he pleaded in his mind for everything to end, he wouldn't—_couldn't—_just give up.

He fought for his worthless life, because it was the only thing to fight for. Because he figured that if he died, then the doctors won, and he couldn't let them win.

They could do all they wanted to him. They weren't going to get the best of him.

Tommy would bend and bend and bend and bend, but he wouldn't break. He would never break.

So yes, he became quite acquainted with death.

He knew what it smelt like, the cloying scents of blood and rot and something was distinctly _dead. _

He knew what it looked liked, the unnatural shapes of mangled bodies, the light in someone's eyes fading, empty, void.

He knew what it sounded like, the last sigh of breath, the last whimper, the last choking gurgle, the last bloodcurdling cream that stopped short.

Yes, Tommy knew death. Though who knew how he was still sane after it all. Death was something that stayed with you, after all.

He'd felt death come for him, once or twice, when the doctors had taken their experiments too far. But Tommy had fought it off for all he was worth.

He liked to think, when he did think about it, that maybe he and Death had actually conversed while he was balancing precariously there on the edge. He liked to think that maybe the conversation had gone something like Death telling him it was his time, and him telling Death to fuck the hell off.

Really, he'd just clung to life with everything he had, forced himself to keep breathing.

Life and death were to just two sides of the same coin, heads and tails, and Tommy happened to be lucky—or skilled—enough to keep flipping heads.


	21. Life

**Life**

It wasn't so much that Tommy feared death, but that he honestly, wholeheartedly loved living.

He loved waking up to the knowledge that he was still alive, still breathing, that his heart was still pumping strong in his chest, that he could still think and feel.

Life was a drug, and Tommy was addicted.

The highs, the lows—he loved it all. Life, like him, just kept moving forwards. Every night was followed by daylight, and if Tommy sometimes woke up in the middle of the night thinking he would never see the sun again, he could just run to the other side of the world where it was day, and stand there with the warm golden rays on his face and think about how time really didn't mean that much to him when he could cross time zones like other people crossed over the lines in a sidewalk.

Sometimes the world was so bright and sharp it hurt.

He got giddy on the rush of adrenalin, on the feeling and thrill of his body moving, the euphoria.

His mind was coruscating and his heart was pounding a heady beat in his chest that he could dance to.

Sometimes he felt so alive he thought he could explode.


	22. Fearless

**Fearless**

Speed grinned straight into the glowing eyes and permanent sneer of Ultron's metal face.

"Come on, robot," Speed said elatedly, eyes bright and body poised. "Let's test the capacity of vibranium to absorb hyperkinetic vibratory energy, shall we?"


	23. Anxiety Attack

**Anxiety Attack**

As they explored the abandoned Weapon X facility, Speed glanced around anxiously, jumping at every little noise, from the scuff of Wiccan's shoes to the loud inhalations of Wolverine as he sniffed the air.

"Calm down, kid, there's nob'dy here," the feral mutant said, not even bothering to glance back at the speedster as he kept walking through silent, claustrophobic gray halls. "I'd say they packed up an' left a couple weeks ago."

However, this didn't seem to put Speed at ease.

Glance this way, glance that way, step lightly, was that the sound of scraping metal to the left? The sound of footsteps behind him? Is that the smell of old dried blood? Was that white of a doctor's scrubs in the shadows at the corner of his vision?

Why had he and Wiccan volunteered to assist Wolverine in checking out this facility, again?

"Why can't I scout ahead again?" Speed asked, angling his head to try to see over down another dark hallway branching off the one they were currently traveling through. "This would go so much faster."

And the faster he could get out of here, the better.

Wolverine cast a glance back at him. The feral mutant's nostrils flared as he inhaled the scents in the air. "Alright, kid," he said, turning back around. "Go fer it."

Speed didn't need to be told twice. His footsteps echoed all throughout the concrete facility, the sound bouncing off walls and ceilings, disconcerting, especially to the mutant with heightened senses.

Then the sound of infinite footsteps stopped but Speed failed to reappear, and as the last traces of echoes faded away, Wiccan sent Wolverine an alarmed glance.

Wolverine sniffed the air. "This way," he growled, taking off at a run down the hall, turning and weaving through the closed-in concrete maze before bursting into a room, to find Speed standing there and shaking, staring at the operating table in front of him with wide, blank eyes.

There was dried blood on the metal surface, restraints there to hold someone down, a tarnished scalpel on the floor.

Wolverine took a moment to stare at the table himself, a fierce but silent snarl pulling at his lips for a moment. "C'mon, kid," he said, taking Speed's shoulders and turning the teen, guiding him out of the room, a confused Wiccan following behind them, glancing back at the table with furrowed brows and a frown. "There's nothin' t'see here."


	24. Fight or Flight Response

**Fight or Flight Response**

It was a very windy day, and nobody could find Tommy.


	25. Cold

**Cold**

"It's so c-c-cold!" Billy wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, shivering, teeth chattering, as he stood in the common area of Avengers Mansion glaring at the wall where there really should have been a fireplace. "I w-wish the st-st-stupid heater w-would st-start w-work-k-king again."

The heater in mansion had been short-circuited by Electro the other day, and since Tony Stark had been the one to design the heater, it was ridiculously complicated and would take a genius to repair it, but neither Tony Stark, Hank McCoy, Bruce Banner, nor Peter Parker had been around to do so.

"Meh," Tommy said insouciantly from where he was lying along the couch and with his hands behind his head and keeping a pillow up in the air by kicking it with his feet, acting somewhat like a cat with a ball of yarn. He was only wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts but seemed to be perfectly fine despite the biting cold. "It's that bad."

"T-t-tommy, I c-can see my _b-breath _and my fing-g-gers and t-toes are g-going n-n-numb!" Billy protested indignantly. "This _is b-b-bad!" _

Tipping his head back to look upside-down at his shivering brother who was had a thick fuzzy blanket wrapped around his pajama-clad form, Tommy suggested, "Maybe you should put on some more clothes, bro. Some socks or gloves or something." Then he shifted his attention back to the pillow he was kicking in the air and batting at with his feet.

Billy considered the speedster. "You're n-not c-c-cold," he observed.

"Nope," Tommy agreed, not paying the mage much attention. Apparently jugging a pillow with his feet was extremely entertaining. "Superspeed metabolism. Keeps me nice and warm."

Eying the speedster, a mischievous glint entered Billy's brown eyes. "In that c-c-case," he murmured. And then he threw himself at his brother, pinning Tommy down on the couch with his blanket-swathed body and sticking his hands up the speedster's shirt, the pillow Tommy had been batting around falling to the floor next to the couch.

"_Oy!"_ Tommy yelped, squirming wildly, giving little giggling shrieks. "Billy your hands are fucking _freezing! _And take them off my sexy abs, I'm not your boyfriend!"

"Yeah but your my b-brother," Billy pointed out with a grin as they tussled, falling off the couch and onto the floor, Tommy trying to get away and Billy trying to keep his cold hands on the speedster's warm skin.

"What's going on?"

Both twins immediately froze, Tommy on the ground with Billy on top of him, one of the mage's hands on the speedster's bare thigh and the other sticking up his shirt and pressed against his chest, to see Teddy standing in the doorway, raising a blond eyebrow at them.

"Thisistotally_not_whatitlookslike!" Tommy blurted. "Youhaveadirtymindyouperv!"

"My hands are cold," Billy explained, simpering. "Tommy's warm."

An impish grin teased at Teddy's lips. "You know what?" he said, "I'm feeling kinda cold, too."

And then he walked over and stuck his hands under Billy's shirt.

"_Aaaiieeee!" _Billy shrieked, jerking violently at the touch of Teddy's cold fingers on his skin. "Not fair, Tee! Not fair! Tommy's warmer than I am, I swear!"

During this Tommy had managed to get away, now standing a few feet off, crossing his arms and leaning into one hip, smirking. "I think what Billy means is that I'm _hotter _than him. I always knew I was the sexier twin."

"I do beg to differ," Teddy said, laughing as Billy retaliated by sticking his hands up the Kree-Skull's shirt. "My boyfriend is sexier than you."

"I _better _be," Billy humphed at him, though he was grinning slightly.

Teddy leaned forward and kissed him.

"Okay, well, as long as you two are otherwise _occupied," _Tommy said, grimacing and covering his eyes, turning away. _"I'm _going to go run to Hawaii where it's nice and warm."

The lovers ignored him, too focused their deepening kiss and their hands on each other's chests.

And well, Tommy didn't really like being ignored, so he ran outside, grabbed two handfuls of snow from the ground, and then dashed back inside to shove the frozen water down the backs of Billy and Teddy's shirts.

"_AAAIIIIEEEEEE!" _Billy shrieked, leaping to his feet and dancing around crazily, trying to get the snow out of his shirt, while Teddy just yelped and pulled his shirt right off, shaking the snow out onto the floor.

The speedster leaned against the wall, laughing so hard his eyes were watering. _"Cockblock!"_he wheezed out between peals of laughter.

As Billy had danced around, some of the snow in his shirt had slipped down the back of his pants, and he shrieked jitterbugged spastically some more, very much resembling chicken with its head cut off.

Tommy told him so.

"DAMMIT TOMMY I HATE YOU!"


	26. Hot

**Hot**

"I hate being on monitor duty," Tommy grumbled, from where he was sprawled out on the ground in the monitor room of Avengers Mansion, panting like a dog, sweat shining on his pale skin. He was shirtless and wearing only shorts, which as far as shorts go were really rather short. "It's so... fucking... _hot."_

"Yeah, first the heater, and now the AC," Billy agreed, slumped in an office chair and staring at the monitor screens on which nothing of interest was happening, idly and languidly swiveling the chair from side to side. "The villains must really have something against us being comfortable." The mage however seemed to be fine in a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were far more descent than the one's his twin was wearing.

"I want to run somewhere cold," Tommy complained in a drawl that was entirely too lethargic for him. "Maybe Alaska. Greenland. Canada. Russia. Norway. Sweden. Finland. Anywhere in the arctic circle."

"Oh? So why don't you?" Billy asked, lifting a dark eyebrow at his brother's sprawled-out form.

"Monitor duty. And too lazy. Stupid heat."

Billy smirked slightly, spinning his chair. "Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "It's not _that _bad."

Shifting his head just slightly, Tommy glared at the mage indolently. "Hate you," he muttered, shifting his head back to stare dully up at the ceiling. "Can't you use your, you know," Tommy lifted a hand limply off the floor and wiggled his fingers slightly, "and make things cooler?"

"With great power comes great responsibility," Billy stated loftily. "I can't go bending the world to my every whim."

Tommy's hand flopped back down onto the floor. "That's stupid," he grumbled. "The point of having powers is to not use them? Stupid."

There were a few minutes of silence as Billy watched monitors in utter boredom and Tommy just lay there and stared drearily through half-lidded eyes at the ceiling.

"I'm so fucking _hot," _Tommy moaned.

Billy had the urge to roll his eyes, but he didn't, because that would have been too much work. "You have a very high opinion of yourself," he droned instead.

"Ha ha," Tommy mumbled humorlessly. "I hate you."


	27. Annoyance

**Annoyance**

Billy was on a mission through astral planes and parallel realities with Doctor Strange, so that left Teddy temporarily missing a boyfriend and Tommy temporarily missing a twin, and the two of them hanging out at Avengers Mansion with nothing much to do.

"Sooo, Teddy," Tommy said, appearing out of nowhere to start poking the Kree-Skrull persistently in the side. "He's been gone for, what, three days now? No need to start worrying about him yet, I'm sure he's fine. He can take care of himself, and he's got the former Sorcerer Supreme with him, so double whammy on the crazy mystical crap."

Teddy shrugged him off, going back to flipping through the channels on the TV. "I'm not worried."

"Ohhhh, you miss him!" Tommy realized, grinning. "Well," he said, stepping in front of the TV screen and spreading his arms in a 'ta-daaaa' gesture, "you've got me, and I'm almost as good! I mean, of course there's the green eyes and the white hair," he brushed a hand through his achromatic locks, "but other than that I look just like him." Tommy smirked. "Though I can't offer you any of that kissy-kissy stuff or sappy romantic shit, but—"

"Tommy, you're not a replacement for Billy—" Teddy started.

"Of course not," Tommy scoffed, snorting. "I'm just his equally-as-sexy doppelgänger who tortures you just by being here because every time you look at me you can't help but see him."

"That's not—" Teddy tried, but Tommy interrupted him by snatching the TV remote from his hands and turning to the screen, changing channels at a pace too fast for anybody else to comprehend, complaining, "Man, there is _nothing _good on the TV. It's all just a bunch of crap," and then pressing the power button to turn the television off and tossing the remote onto the couch on the other side of the room.

"You don't want to watch that crap," Tommy said seriously, turning back to the alien. "So let's you and me do something, before I go batshit crazy with no little brother to annoy, and before you get more depressed and mopey and pining for your boyfriend than you are now."

Teddy raised a blond eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like go out looking for trouble and some baddies to punch," Tommy shrugged. "Or we could play a game like Truth or Dare or something."

"Neither of those sound like they'll end well," Teddy remarked dryly.

"Ugh," Tommy groaned, flopping onto the couch next to the alien, laying a hand dramatically over his forehead, "you are _so _serious. You're just as much of a killjoy as your boyfriend!" He started poking the blond with his foot. "Okay, here's the deal: if you don't come up with something to do, then I am going to poke you and ask you obnoxious questions until you Hulkling out in anger. How does that sound?"

Teddy sighed, ignoring the foot that kept jabbing him in the ribs. "We could... I don't know..."

"So," Tommy smirked, getting up and zooming to the other side of the couch and sitting on the armrest. "How _is _my brother in bed? Who gets to be on top?" He waggled his white eyebrows. "Any kinky shapeshifting or reality-warping go on? Huh?"

Teddy just lifted a blond eyebrow.

"So, I know you and Billy talk about who the hottest superheroes are," Tommy continued, zipping around to the opposite armrest and poking the shapeshifter in the shoulder, grinning. "Where do I rank on your list?"

He zipped back to the other side. "I dare you to adopt Sabretooth's voice and prank call Wolverine."

"We are _not _playing Truth or Dare," Teddy said. "It is _not _happening."

"So," Tommy said, zooming back over to the alien and prodding him in the back, "what's it like being the only Kree-Skrull in the existence, with both your parents dead and with both the Skrulls and the Krees expecting you to be their saviors and help them destroy the other race?"

Teddy just looked the speedster. "Are you _trying _to make me angry?"

From his new position behind the couch and leaning on the back of it, Tommy asked, "So, what are you going to name the baby?"

Blue eyes blinked in bewilderment. "What?"

"When you and my brother have a kid," Tommy said. "Because you're a shapeshifter, so you could totally get pregnant, couldn't you?"

"You're really trying to annoy me, aren't you?" Teddy said, lips quirking.

"You ever wonder what ever happened to the Super-Skrull who disguised himself as you and went with the Skrulls and the Kree?"

"Thomas."

"Don't call me that," Tommy said immediately. "It's 'Tommy,' or 'Speed,' or nothing."

"No," Teddy shook his head. "You asked what our baby's name would be. And I'm telling you. If we have a boy, we're going to name him Thomas."

Tommy just stared.

Teddy grinned back at him. "What, sorry you asked now?"


	28. Ghost Hunter

**Ghost Hunter**

"Dammit!" Steve Rogers said, hitting his fist against the monitor in frustration. "Where _is _he? It's imperative that I find him before—"

"Imperative that you find who?" Tommy asked, raising his white eyebrows questioningly as he sauntered into the room, hands in his jeans pockets.

"Bucky," Steve said, sighing and rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Something's going down and I need him on this—"

"You don't have a way to contact him?"

Steve shook his head. "Buck's completely off the grid right now."

"No idea at all where he is?"

"Last I heard he was somewhere in Russia," Steve sighed. "But if Bucky doesn't want to be found, then he's not going to be found. The Winter Soldier's a ghost."

"Pffft," Tommy said, waving a hand dismissively, "I hunt ghosts for fun in my free time. Hell, I'm the best ghost hunter this side of the Bronx!"

Before Steve could even ask what the hell the teen was talking about, the speedster was gone, sending the dossier on the table spiraling to the floor and spilling papers everywhere.

Steve bent down to pick them up, making a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. Now he'd have to sort the papers again. And he _still _had absolutely no way of finding or contacting his best friend.

It must've been around an hour later, after Steve had resorted the dossier and was in the middle of utilizing every single resource he had to try to figure out the location of the Winter Soldier, that there was a sudden breeze through the room, and Steve turned to see standing there a very disgruntled Winter Soldier and a very smug Speed.

"What the hell?!" Bucky growled, automatically trying to punch the teen, but the green-and-silver-clad speedster easily dodged the metal-fisted blow. "What did ya do that for, ya little punk—?!"

"Bucky!" Steve exclaimed, blue eyes wide and mouth dropped.

Turning to glance at Captain America, Bucky blinked, then glanced around the room. "Damn. Am I in Avengers Mansion?!"

Steve was still staring, hardly able to believe that Bucky had just been dropped off in the room—and by an teenage kid, no less.

"I told you," Tommy grinned smugly, gesturing at himself with a thumb. "Ghost hunter."


	29. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder

**Posttraumatic Stress Disorder**

"You have PTSD, Tommy."

Tommy waved a hand dismissively. "Who _doesn't?" _


	30. Resemblance

**Resemblance**

Tommy has Pietro's super-speed. He has Pietro's brooding bad-boy thing, and Pietro's weird white-headed-ness. He has Pietro's arrogance, abrasive and impatient personality, and wisecrack humor.

But Tommy has Wanda's eyes.

They may be hardened over with Pietro's cynical, guarded glint, but ultimately they are Wanda's—empathetic, vibrant green eyes, that sometimes take in more than they're able to hold.


	31. The Black Sheep

**The Black Sheep**

"You know what I realized?" Tommy said, zipping over to lean against the wall ahead of where Billy was walking down the hallway. "You're the black sheep of the family, bro!"

"What?" Billy said, raising his eyebrows, pausing in his mission to get to the bathroom in order to take a shower.

"You're the black sheep of the Maximoff family," Tommy explained. "See, Pietro has blue eyes and white hair, Wanda has green eyes and brown hair, Erik has blue-gray eyes and white hair but he used to have black hair," he was tapping the fingers of one hand with the index finger of his other with each point that he made, "Magda had blue eyes and brown hair—I know 'cause I asked Erik—I have green eyes and white hair, and you have black hair like Erik, _but," _Tommy pointed into Billy's face, "you have _brown _eyes! Where did your brown eyes come from?!"

"Um," Billy blinked his brown eyes at his spiritual twin. "Both my birth parents—Jeff and Rebecca Kaplan—have brown eyes."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't make sense why you should have brown eyes!" Tommy exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Neither of _my _birth parents had white hair _or _green eyes! I mean, of course it's not normal to have white hair, and maybe white hair comes with the speedster power, but nobody in _either _of Frank or Mary's families had green eyes."

Billy didn't have anything to say to that.

"See?!" Tommy said, jabbing the mage in the chest. "You're the black sheep of our family!"

Rallying himself, Billy crossed his arms, huffing. "Have you ever considered," he said, "the fact that we're both _mutants? _That could apply to eye color too."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Tommy said, waving a hand to brush his brother's comment away. "You're still the black sheep of the family, little bro!" He grinned smugly. "And you know another thing I realized?"

Billy sighed. "What?"

Tommy was grinning incredibly wide now. "When you get old and you lose the color of your hair and your black hair turns white, we're going to look _exactly _the same except for our eye color! Nobody will be able to tell which of us is which unless they look us directly in the eyes!" He sniggered, shaking his head to toss some stray strands of white hair out of his green eyes.

"Oy," Billy breathed, brushing a hand through his own black hair self-consciously, brown eyes widened slightly.

"I know right?!" Tommy said, still snickering.

Then the mage smirked. "Well," he said, "of course, that will only happen if we live that long. And seeing as that we're Avengers and are constantly fighting to save the world and doing incredibly stupid and dangerous thing, it's rather unlikely that we'll live to get that old."

"_Dammit, _Billy," Tommy groaned, his laughter ceasing, a palm zooming up to slap himself in the face. "You are _such _a crapehanger!*"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>*Crapehanger—_noun: _someone who sees the gloomy side of things; basically a cooler word for 'pessimist.'


	32. The Younger Brother

**The Younger Brother**

"Hey Tommy," Billy said, coming up to his brother, smiling slyly. "You know what I realized?"

"That you're the most boring person in the world," Tommy guessed immediately. "That pepperoni pizza kicks anchovy pizza's ass in terms of awesomeness and not being disgusting."

"I realized that, when the Patri-not kidnapped you, he removed you from reality, right? So to you no time went by from when you were captured to when you returned."

"Yeah?" Tommy said, raising an eyebrow.

"So that means you didn't experience the months that went by," Billy continued, his smile turning to a smirk. "Which means that you didn't age, but I did, which means _that, _even if you'd been the one born first, I am now older than you." Billy folded his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, wearing a shit-eating grin. _"__Little brother." _

Tommy just stared at him. "Fuck!" the speedster exclaimed.

Billy laughed delightedly.


	33. Interchange

**Interchange**

It was night, and Speed and Quicksilver were standing on the roof of the Empire State Building, gazing down on the city of New York that was lit-up below them.

"So, Uncle Pete," Tommy said, "aside from the running super fast, the scaling of vertical surfaces, the vibrating through solid matter, and the hyperkinetic explosions, what have you discovered about superspeed."

Pietro hummed, gazing out at the dark buildings bespeckled with tiny bright lights that stretched out in all directions below them, the city looking small and almost unreal from the height of over 1,250 feet. "It actually took me awhile to discover the ability to destabilize objects by accelerating their molecules with hyperkinetic vibrations."

"Really?!" Tommy asked, sounding surprised. "That was the very first thing I did when my powers developed."

"The first thing I did was run."

There was a pause. At least, there was a pause for them—nobody else would have noticed a pause in their speech, much less been able to understand what they were even saying.

"So, what else have you discovered?" Tommy inquired again. "Only asking 'cause you've had these powers longer than I've been alive."

Pietro considered for a moment. "I've discovered that I can use myself as a human cannonball since my bones are sturdy enough to protect me from impacts as well as G-forces, whip up air currents to blow away any type of smoke or gas, run around people fast enough to create a vacuum of air that deprives them of oxygen, magnify my strength by using my speed so that the force of my blows while running is greater than most would expect, there is of course the increased balance and flexibility as compared to most other beings. At one point I was able to vibrate so fast I could run back and forth in time and create time displaced duplicates*, though I have not had reason to see if I can still do so. I have also discovered that by vibrating my legs at top speed I can fly for short distances.**"

Tommy's green eyes were saucers in his face. "We can _fly?!" _he asked excitedly, expression animated and grin thrilled as he grabbed Pietro's arm, pulling the older speedster over the side of the building and running down the vertical face, racing through the city of New York. "We have to go somewhere _right now _so you can show me!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>*_SON OF M (2005-2006)_

**_AVENGERS VOL.1 #43 "Color Him... the Red Guardian!" (1967)_


	34. Damn You, Pietro

**Damn You, Pietro**

"Brother, look at meeeee! I'm flying!" Tommy crowded as he hurtled through the air, his legs a complete blur, zooming by and grabbing away the book that Billy had been reading. "Look at meeee! I can fly! I can actually fucking _fly!" _

"What the hell, Tommy?!" Billy said indignantly as he uselessly grabbed for his book back. Then he saw that Tommy wasn't just running around saying random things, he actually _was _flying through the air.

Billy's jaw dropped. "Wh-_what?!"_

"Uncle Pete showed me how to fly!" Tommy grinned, setting the novel Billy had been reading on the bookshelf and then continuing to rocket around the room. "All I have to do is vibrate my legs at top speed, and I can propel myself through the air!"

"What's going on?" came Teddy's voice, as the tall, muscular blond came into the doorway.

"Teddy!" Tommy exclaimed in absolute glee as he flew in figure eights throughout the room. "Pietro taught me how to use my superspeed to fly!"

Teddy's dumbfounded expression mimicked his boyfriend's.

"I must show the others!" Tommy exclaimed, flying out of the room and turning down the hallway.

_CRASH! _

"Oops! Sorry, Captain America! I'm still working on steering. But I can fly! Pietro showed me!"

"Yes," came Steve's amused voice. "I can remember when Pietro discovered that ability. He stole Hawkeye's bow, my shield, and Hercules's _Iliad. _Tempers certainly flared that day. But I'd never seen Pietro so excited. He was acting downright juvenile in his elation. Much like yourself, actually."

"I can _fly!"_The huge grin was easily evident in Tommy's voice.  
>Recovering from his astonishment, Billy groaned, facepalming. "<em>Great. <em>Now Tommy is going to be flying everywhere. Damn you, Pietro, for showing Tommy that particular skill. Damn you."


	35. Bad Ideas All Around

**Bad Ideas All Around  
><strong>

_CRASH! _

"Oy!"

_CRASH! CRASH! _

"I'm okay! The wall might not be, though..."

_BANG! _

"Still okay!"

_CRASH! SHATTER! _

"Okay, so the dent in the wall was my fault! The fallen chandelier totally _wasn't _though!"

_Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang! _

"Mental note to self to avoid the stairs."

_**CRASH!**_

"Uhh... I swear I didn't mean to knock a hole in the wall! This is totally NOT MY FAULT!"

_CRASH! BANG! _

"Billy will pay for the damages!"

_**CRASH!**_

"Damn it not _again! _Somebody get these stupid things off'a me!"

In Billy's bedroom, Teddy glanced at the mage who was lying with his head on the Kree-Skrull's chest, looking relaxed and awfully smug.

"Uh, Bee?" Teddy said even as he stroked the brunette's hair. "I think maybe that magicking wool socks onto Tommy's feet and making it so that he can't take them off, especially when we live in a mansion with smooth floors, was _not _the best idea."

Billy waved a hand lazily. "Whatever. I'll fix the damage later."

"What about Tommy?"

"He'll be fine. But he _really _needs to learn to stop interrupting our intimate moments."

* * *

><p>Billy had magicked wool socks onto Tommy's feet and then used his magic to throw the speedster out of the room, shutting the door and magically locking it.<p>

Tommy had landed on his feet, of course, but damn those wools socks were _slippery _and his feet had flown out from under him, causing him to pratfall onto the floor.

He tried to pull the socks of his feet. They socks wouldn't budge.

He tried to vibrate out of the socks. That didn't work.

He tried to blow the socks up. That also didn't work.

He got to his feet, brushed himself on and slid back over to the door, banging on it and yelling, "Okay, Billy! I get the fucking message! Now get the stupid fucking socks off my feet!"

"No! You asked for it!" came Billy's voice.

"Socks?" came Teddy's voice.

Okay, whatever. Tommy glanced down at his feet dressed up in the wool socks, wiggling his toes. At least the socks were green.

He tried to run, but his feet flew out from under him. Again. And he fell on his butt. Again.

Okay, so that didn't work.

Getting back to his feet, he started sliding along the floor, moving his feet like he was ice-skating. That worked much better, so he skated faster, faster, then came the end of the hallway and tried to turn the corner, and—_CRASH! _"Oy!" Straight into the wall. Didn't hurt even a little bit. Actually, it was kind of fun.

He picked himself up and started skating again, down the hallway, going faster than he had before, and—_CRASH! _Straight into a wall. This time he'd been going fast enough that he actually put a dent in the wall, made it crack.

Heh. Didn't hurt him any—he was built for this sort of thing, after all. He grinned. In fact, this skating thing was kind of fun.

_CRASH!_ Into another wall. "I'm okay! The wall might not be though..."

_BANG!_ Straight into a couch. "Still okay!"

_CRASH!_ A wall. _SHATTER! _Okay, so apparently he'd hit the wall hard enough to knock down the chandelier. "Okay, so the dent in the wall was my fault! The fallen chandelier totally _wasn't _though!"

Okay, things were getting pretty ridiculous. He'd had enough of this randomly skating around and crashing into things—the socks needed to come off. He pulled at them again, but they still didn't budge.

Right, so that didn't work. Maybe he could run them off. If he could wear through a pair of shoes with a day's worth of running, surely he could wear through a pair of socks, and in far less time.

So now he just had to get to the front door. Which meant going down the stairs.

Only, he slipped and ended up sliding on his butt all the way down. _Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang! _"Mental note to self to avoid the stairs." His butt was perfectly fine, but the whole thing was still rather embarrassing, and he'd rather not repeat that. It hadn't exactly been that fun, either, even if it hadn't hurt.

He got up and started skating again. He _had _to get to the front door.

_**CRASH! **_That time he actually crashed all the way _through _a wall, leaving behind a gaping hole like the Thing had smashed through it. "Uhh... I swear I didn't mean to knock a hole in the wall! This is totally NOT MY FAULT!" Seriously, it was all Billy's fault, the jerk. _He _was the one who'd magicked the stupid wool socks onto his feet in the first place.

(Slowing down never even _occurred _to the speedster.)

_CRASH! _A wall, but at least he hadn't gone all the way through it that time.

_BANG! _That was Clint's favorite couch. "Billy will pay for the damages!" Actually, the mage probably wouldn't pay for them, he'd just magick everything back into place.

_**CRASH! **_All the way through a wall. "Damn it not _again! _Somebody get these stupid things off'a me!" In a fit of frustration, Tommy tried, and failed, yet again to pull the fucking wool socks off his fucking feet.

Whatever. Time to run the stupid wool fabric off.

Up ahead was the front door to the mansion, and if he could just slow down—actually, okay, nope, that wasn't happening. _**CRASH! **_Straight through the door.

Tommy grinned as he rolled back up to his feet. Freedom! He just needed to avoid smooth surfaces and run on the roughest ground he could find, and he wouldn't slide all over the place, and the fabric of the socks would be totally torn up and they'd come off his feet.

He started running.

* * *

><p>When Steve came back to the mansion, his eyes went wide in alarm as he saw the destroyed front door.<p>

"Hello?!" he said as he hurried inside. "Anybody here?!"

As he walked through the mansion, calling to see if any Avenger were there or if something had happened to them, if someone villain had come and kidnapped them or something, he took note of the damage.

Several walls were cracked and dented, a couple broken all the way through. A few pieces of furniture were completely smashed. A chandelier had fallen. But other than that, there weren't any other signs of a struggle. He frowned.

"AVENGERS!"

"Oh! Hi Steve!"

He turned to see Billy standing there, glancing around at the damage and looking slightly guilty.

"What happened here?!" Steve demanded, crossing his arms and glaring, trying to reign in his anger.

"I, uhh..." Billy scratched the back of his neck and looked down. "You see..."

* * *

><p>Tommy ran, and he ran, and he ran, over all the roughest surfaces he could find. Concrete, asphalt, gravel, sharp rocks, broken glass, anything.<p>

When the socks were mostly torn up, he tried to pull them off again. They still didn't come off.

So he ran some more. And he ran, and skidded to try to burn the socks off faster, and he ran, and he skidded, and he ran, and he skidded, till there was most _definitely _the stench of burning wool.

And when the socks _still _didn't come off, he ran until his feet bled.

The bottom of the socks were completely gone, so he was running on bare feet, but the rest of the socks were still stuck on the top of his feet and around his ankles, so he found a knife and cut the fabric off. Maybe should have tried that in the first place. Whatever, the running and skidding had actually been rather enjoyable.

And okay, so maybe he wasn't as careful with the knife as he probably should have been, and maybe accidentally cut himself a little bit, but it wasn't that bad and it would heal.

And then, since he'd run away from New York but then basically ended up running back and was only a hundred or so miles away from the mansion, he figured there was no point in fixing his feet up yet, and he also knew that the Avengers kept pretty much the best medical supplies around, so he just stood up, tossed the socks remnants aside and ran back to the mansion.

* * *

><p>Only apparently Tommy had grown too accustomed to pain at some point, because by the time he got back to the mansion and came in through the door—apparently Billy had already done his magical repairs of the mansion—he'd basically completely forgotten about the torn-up skin of his feet and didn't realize he was tracking blood through the mansion.<p>

He honestly didn't notice until Steve called, _"__Speed!" _and Tommy turned to see the World War II veteran staring at him with a strange expression.

Tommy held up his hands. "The destruction of the mansion was totally _not _my fault! I swear! Billy was the one who—"

"I know," Steve cut in, staring at the ground in front of the speedster. "But what happened to your feet, son? You need to get those injuries taken care of, right now."

Tommy glanced down, actually blinking in surprise as he stared down at his feet, which were covered in cuts, and the messy trail of blood he'd left behind him. Lifting up a foot, he glanced at the shredded skin, looking back up when he heard Steve's astonished gasp.

"What happened?" the soldier demanded, a hard look coming into his gaze.

"Whoa," Tommy said, widening his eyes and holding his hands in front of him again, defending, "I didn't do anything! Nothing happened, seriously. I was just running—"

"Barefoot?"

"Um, in wool socks," Tommy admitted. "You see, I couldn't pull them off, so I tried to run them off, and then I had to cut them off, and—"

"Sit down," Steve ordered.

Tommy glanced around, wondering where the Captain wanted him to sit seeing as that there weren't any chairs, but then just sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs and bleeding feet stretched out in front of him.

"Stay right there, young man," Steve said before turning and striding from the hall. "And _don't move. _I'll be right back._" _

"Am I in trouble?" Tommy asked the world at large, glancing around the empty hall in confusion.

Oh, there was a wall he'd crashed into earlier. It sure had patched up nice. Nobody would ever know it had been partially destroyed.

What felt like ages later, Steve came back carrying first-aid supplies, and Tommy widened his eyes in realization.

"_Oh," _Tommy said, quickly scrambling to his feet. "You know, I am _perfectly _capable of cleaning up and bandaging my own fucking feet—"

"Sit down," Steve said again, and there was really no way that _anybody _would disobey the man when he used his Captain America voice like that.

Groaning very loudly, Tommy let himself slide back down the wall, watching America's idol warily. "You're _really _not going to _actually _first-aid my _feet, _are you? I'm not a kid! And 'sides, they don't even hurt! And you cleaning and bandaging up my feet in the hallway like this is _really _undignified and _really _embarrassing."

"I can knock you out, if that would make you feel better."

"You _suck,_ you know that? I have no _fucking_ idea why everybody loves you."

* * *

><p>Billy was walking down the hallway to the kitchen when he found the corridor blocked by Tommy and Steve, the latter wrapping the former's feet in bandages.<p>

Tommy glanced up, catching sight of Billy and groaning, letting his head fall back against the wall. "I am going to _die," _the speedster said dramatically, closing his eyes and covering his face with both his hands. "Seriously. I am going to fucking die of _embarrassment. _And then I'm going to come back as a ghost and kill the both of you."

"There," Steve said, finishing up the first-aid and starting to clean up the medical supplies. "All done. Now, you might want to take it easy and stay off your feet as much as possible for the rest of the day, but due to your high metabolism and healing you should be good to go tomorrow."

"_Fuck you,"_ Tommy groaned through his fingers.

"What happened?" Billy asked, confused and concerned, glancing between his brother and Steve.

When he saw the look on Steve's face, he gulped.

That was one of Captain America's very scary expressions.

"William Kaplan," Steve said severely , and oh no he'd used Billy's full name, Billy was _definitely _in a ton of trouble, "I need to talk to you. Follow me."

The Captain walked off, the mage following him with hung head and heavy tread.

"Uhh," Tommy said, taking his hands from his face and glancing around the empty hallway, "stay off my feet, huh? What, so I'm just supposed to sit here for the rest of the day? No fucking way."

But, well, it had still been an _order... _and from _Captain America... _and even if Tommy didn't _like _the guy, he still definitely respected him.

So tucked his knees under him and placed his palms flat on the floor, pushing himself up into a hand-stand and then walking on his hands down the hall towards the kitchen, bandaged feet up in the air.

Now would be a good time to see if he could open the refrigerator with one hand while standing on his other hand. He'd seen Natasha do it, once, so he knew it was possible, and he'd kind of been looking for an excuse to try it.

* * *

><p>Tommy was sitting at the kitchen table chowing through the large spread of leftovers set out in front him (he'd tried eating upside-down, but though it had actually worked better than he'd expected it to, he still decided that it would be better to just sit down and eat like someone who wasn't Spiderman) when Billy shuffled into the room, looking guilty, remorseful, and utterly shamefaced.<p>

"You're a tomato," Tommy greeted, because Billy's cheeks really _were_ incredibly red.

"Tommy..." Billy said, unable to look at the speedster, staring down at his feet and hugging his arms around himself. "Look, I'm really, really, _really _sorry about magicking the wool socks onto your feet like that, I didn't know that—"

Oh. Captain America had _totally _put him up to this.

"You can take your apology and stuff it up your ass, Kaplan," Tommy said smoothly as he licked the pizza sauce from his fingers in a casual manner, though his green eyes were hard and flat. "Just don't ever fucking do it again."

Billy's head had shot up, brown eyes wide and watery, but then he'd looked down again, nodding despondently. "I'm sorry..."

"Dammit, I _said _that you can _stuff it."_

"What's going on in here?"

They both looked over to see Teddy standing in the doorway, glancing between them, intensely confused.

"Why does Billy look like somebody kicked his puppy? Also, why are there bandages on your feet, Tommy?"

"These?" Tommy said, raising his eyebrows and rolling his feet at the ankles where they should have been mostly hidden under the table. "These are very fashionable new socks, idiot. Don't you keep with the trends, Mr. Alien? And as for what we were doing," he gestured at the food on the table, which consisted of a few boxes with pieces of cold pizza, "I was having dinner, and telling my brother that he can get his own fucking leftovers, because this pizza is _mine."_ He pulled the pizza boxes closer to him, smirking as he finished off the pizza slice he'd been eating and opened one of the boxes to grab another. "And you can get your own fucking good as well, boyfriend-of-my-brother."

"Right," Teddy said, glancing between them again as he grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it with water.

Billy was still looking utterly disconsolate, and Tommy still seemed a bit colder than usual, even if he _was_ usually a bit of a jerk and enjoyed swearing way too much.

"I'm actually not that hungry right now, though," Teddy said as he took a drink from his water. "I was just thirsty. I'll come back and cook myself something later once I've finished what I'm doing." He raised his water glass in farewell and left the room.

Okay, he needed to go find Steve Rogers and ask what had happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This started with the prompt "wool socks." I thought it was going to be short and humorous but then it got out of hand and got all long and angsty. WTF. <strong>


	36. Momentum

**Momentum**

Tommy couldn't stop. He could _never_ stop.

Some people, like Billy, could choose not to use their powers, but it wasn't like that for Tommy.

His mutation didn't come with an on/off switch.

Superspeed wasn't a power. It was a state of being, a way of life.

It couldn't be stopped. _He _couldn't be stopped, couldn't be forced still. He just wasn't wired that way.

He lived for speed. It was his forte, his raison d'être.

"Speed." It was his epithet. The perfect name for him.

He couldn't bring himself to a still, couldn't let the world catch up—not just because he didn't want to, but because he honestly, physically _couldn't. _

Sometimes, though, he could force himself to slow down.

If he focused on taking deep breaths, on calming his heartbeat, on clearing his mind, he could forcibly slow himself, watch the world speed up just a little, make it a little easier to understand what people were saying. (It was a meditation technique, taught to him with an uncharacteristic amount of patience by Wolverine.)

He was never anywhere close to normal pace—and frankly, he didn't want to be. But he was able to learn to dial his speed up and down, slightly.

Hand in hand with learning how to control the amount he slowed down, came learning how to control the amount he sped _up, _how to push himself to the level where the rest of the world was entirely, perfectly, completely still.

Usually though he let the world move, if only in slow-motion.

But ultimately he lived fast, and he lived hard, and he figured he'd probably die that way as well.


	37. Memory

**Memory**

Tommy's memory could only be described as "photographic."

It was part of being a speedster. Since his mind operated in an accelerated state, it meant that he could do such things as read at superspeed, as well as remember everything he'd seen.

He had to be able to, with how fast and how far and how often he ran. He had to memorize where he'd been, the road signs, geography, the lay of the land, in order to navigate from place to place and not get completely turned around and lost.

Not being able to get anywhere because of running in confused circles would completely negate the point of supserspeed.

He always had been good at geography, even before his mutation kicked in, but now his mental map of the world was phenomenal. What with all the running around the world he did? His mental map _had_ to be. Perhaps partly because of this he always knew instinctively where north, east, south, and west were.

He could recall with perfect accuracy anywhere he'd been, anything he'd seen.

Which sure, yeah, was _incredibly_ useful.

It did have its disadvantages, though. There were some things he'd seen that he _wanted_ to forget. Some things he really, _really_ did not want to be able to recall every. single. gruesome. detail. of.

Every memory. Mercilessly vivid. Ruthlessly detailed. Pitilessly sharp and defined.

He could tell you, if he felt so inclined, which he definitely didn't ever, but he _could _tell you exactly what scalpel a doctor had used on him, exactly what his flesh had looked like cut open, exactly what his arm looked like after they'd finally applied enough pressure to his bone to make it break,the exact expression one of the doctors had worn the first time that Tommy had spat in the man's face.

It wouldn't even be quite so bad if it wasn't for the fact that he always remember clearly all his _dreams, _too. His vision and memory were crystal clear, and all his dreams—nightmares, they were almost _always _nightmares—were only slightly better, just a little more blurry, a little softer at the edges. At least he could always tell when he woke up, could tell what was real and what wasn't.

Sometimes he wondered how his head didn't explode with it all; all the memories, all the horrors, all the sensory details.

But at least his perception gave him the ability to live and feel every single second, to live in the moment, in what was _real _and to be able to _know _it was real and not be drowning in memories even during his waking hours. At least he was able to distinguish between past and present. Between reality and dreams.

His capacity for memory was both a blessing and a curse, and every day he vacillated between loving and loathing it.


	38. Chronic Boredom

**Chronic Boredom**

As Billy came down the hallway on the second floor, he saw a bucket sitting by the railing, and, curious, he walked over to it.

Inside the bucket were several colorful water balloons. Even as Billy watched, more water balloons kept 'magically' appearing in the bucket while a breeze tussled the brunette's hair, until the bucket was completely full.

Then Tommy was standing there, peering over the edge of the railing at the first floor below them.

"Um, Tommy?" Billy asked, "What are you doing with all those water balloons?"

"I'm going to throw them at whoever walks by down below," Tommy said immediately.

"Um, why?"

"Because I'm bored."

Billy looked over the railing, then at the water balloons, then at Tommy. "You're bored, huh?"

"Yep. Figured I'd try something different to relieve my boredom today."

Raising an eyebrow, Billy said, "Sooo, you're just going to stand here and wait until someone walks by down below? That could take a while, you know."

"True. Do you have a better idea?"

Billy grinned. "Yep."

And then he grabbed one of the water balloons from the bucket and threw it at his brother, who'd been turned away from him.

"Oy!" Tommy yelped as the balloon burst against his back, water soaking his shirt, and he turned to glare at his brother. "Alright, you asked for it!"

Billy barely had time to shield his face before every single other water balloon that had been in the bucket struck him within the space of a few seconds, and he found himself completely and utterly soaked.

He glared at his brother. "That is _totally _not fair!" He murmured something under his breath, and moments later a deluge of water came out of nowhere above his brother's head, saturating the speedster.

Tommy just laughed, shaking his head of wet, niveous hair like a crazy-energetic wet dog, sending droplets of water everywhere and causing Billy to cover his face again.

"Well, that was fun," Tommy grinned.

They both stood there for a moment, completely soaked and dripping, grinning slightly at each other, mutual agreement of a match well met.

Then Tommy glanced around and heaved a sigh. "Aaaaand now I'm bored again."

"Let's get some more water balloons and go peg my boyfriend with them," Billy suggested, mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at his lips.

Tommy reciprocated the impish grin. "I am totally down with that."

Then he disappeared, and the bucket started filling up with colorful water balloons again.

* * *

><p>Teddy was walking through the common room when out of nowhere, water balloons started pegging him from both sides, bursting and splashing him with cold water, saturating him. "What the?!"<p>

When the barrage finally stopped, he saw two heads pop out from behind various pieces of furniture, with different colored hair and eyes but identical mischievous grins.

"Got you," Billy smirked, before rushing out from behind the couch to give his soaked boyfriend a hug, not minding seeing as that he was already soaked himself.

Teddy grinned and rubbed his boyfriend's back. "So you did. But, uh, what was that all about?"

Billy pulled away slightly, shrugging. "Tommy and I were bored."

"And now I'm bored _again," _Tommy complained as he rolled out from behind a large arm chair.

"YOU KIDS!" game a roar from a few rooms away. "I TOLD YA NOT TO TRACK PUDDLES EVERYWHERE!"

Tommy grinned, dashing off, before returning moments later with even more water balloons. "Come on," he told Billy and Teddy, holding out the bucket. "Let's nail Wolverine!"

Billy immediately matched his twin's grin, and Teddy smirked, both of them grabbing as many water balloons as they could carry and then ducking behind various pieces of furniture.

"You kids get out here an' clean up the water you've left ev'rywhere!" Logan demanded as he strode into the room, sniffing, glancing around. "Alrigh', I know ya kids are in here, now c'mon out an'—ARGH!"

Three heads poked up to grin at the irate, extremely wet Wolverine.

"_Now _who's tracking leaving puddles everywhere?" Billy grinned.

"You know, you're not _always _a completely boring person," Tommy told his brother, smirking. "Hey, does anybody smell wet dog?"

Wolverine growled at them, teeth bared.

"Um, guys?" Teddy said, glancing at the snarling Avenger, and then at his cohorts in crime. "I think maybe we need a tactical retreat."

"The best defense is a good offense!" Tommy proclaimed before disappearing, returning with his arms full of water guns, which he proceeded to hand out, one to Billy, one to Teddy, one for himself, and also one for Wolverine. "But it just wouldn't be fair to attack a disadvantaged opponent."

The others all glanced at the water guns in their hands, then at each other.

Surprisingly, Logan grinned first, hefting up the large water gun and spraying Teddy right in the face. "If it's a fight y'all want, it's a fight you'll get!"

* * *

><p>There was a ruckus coming from the common area. Lots of yelling and swearing, a little bit of crashing, the sounds of people knocking into furniture and each other.<p>

Curious, and slightly apprehensive, Steve glanced through the doorway to see Tommy (no surprise there), Billy (okay then, sure), Teddy (okay...), and Logan (what?) running around the room, ducking behind furniture and shooting each other with water guns.

They were all soaked. The room was also soaked.

Steve just stared for a moment, before he crossed his arms and cleared his throat. "Soldiers!" he barked, utilizing his commanding Captain America voice. "I need you all to take this fight _outside." _

He received four salutes of varying levels of sincere and mocking, and then the teens were rushing past him, heading towards the mansion's garden.

"Logan?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at the short, gruff man.

Logan just shrugged. "They asked fer it. It's also somewhat therapeutic ta be able t'shoot the lil' bastards." Then he grinned toothily and shot Steve in the face before dashing past, chasing after the kids.

Steve wiped the water out of his eyes and shook his head in a mixture between exasperation and amusement.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Because I needed to balance out all that angst of the previous chapters. Yay for lighthearted humor!<br>**

**This story has become quite the conglomeration of different kinds of pieces. **


	39. Internet

**Internet**

"I HATE THE INTERNET!" Tommy cried, pushing himself from the computer and sending the desk chair rolling across the room. "I JUST HATE IT!"

Billy gaped at him in jaw-dropped disbelief. "You hate the internet?! _How can you hate the internet?!"_

"It's so slooooow," Tommy groaned, leaning back in his chair, both hands carding through his white hair as he stared up at the ceiling. "It's soooooo sloooooooow, not to mention the computer's slow anyway and the keyboard has a huge lag, and so many websites are all buggy and either crash or don't work, and just _ugh!"_

"But," Billy said, looking at him in indignation, "but it's so _useful! _And awesome, and the internet literally has _everything—"_

"_Including _things that I really, _really _don't want to know anything about!" Tommy said, throwing up his hands. "For example, fanfiction and fanart..." he shuddered. "People are so creepy! Do you even _know _how many people have drawn fanart of you or written fanfiction with you and Teddy making out or doing M-rated things?! And the people that they pair together!_"_

"You actually _look _at that stuff?!" Billy asked him, eyes wide.

"_No!" _Tommy said as he started to spin his chair around quickly. "Only by _accident! _But that's not what I was just doing—I was just trying to look up the definition of the word 'evince' and then the browser totally crashed on me!" He leaped out of his chair, unintentionally sending it spinning and rolling across the room towards where his brother was sitting at his own laptop.

"Oy!" the mage complained as his brother's chair knocked into him, causing his elbow to smash against his keyboard.

Tommy wasn't paying attention, though, as he was too busy ranting.

"Fuck this!" the speedster exclaimed, throwing up his arms. "I want to know the weather in Wakanda, I'll go run over there and fucking check! I want to say something to Kate, to hell with email, I'll go run over there and talk to her! I want to know the definition of 'evince,' I'll go get a fucking dictionary! Which I am going to go do right now!"

And then he dashed off in an irritated flurry of wind that pulled several pieces of paper out of the printer and sent them drifting all around the room like huge snowflakes.

Billy sighed and turned back to the email he was writing to Kate, deleting all the gibberish that his elbow had accidentally typed. "What kind of person hates the internet?! That's it, Tommy is _completely_ insane, it's official."


	40. Childhood Aspirations

**Childhood Aspirations**

"Hey Billy," Tommy said, from where he was sprawled across the couch.

"Yeah?" came Billy's voice as the witch glanced over from where he was sitting in a nearby arm chair, legs curled up on the seat, a book in his hands.

"When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Billy set the book down, giving his brother a raised eyebrow and an amused grin. "An Avenger of course. I've always wanted to be an Avenger."

"Just wondering," Tommy said, turning his attention back to the ceiling, starting to hum along with the radio that was playing pop music in the background.

"When you were a kid, what did _you _want to be when you grew up, Tommy?"

Tommy glanced at him, then shrugged and diverted his gaze to the ceiling again. "I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast."

"Really?" The surprise was evident in the mage's voice.

"Why, is that hard to believe?"

"No, I just... I just can't imagine you being anything other than a superhero."

The speedster chuckled. "Yeah, being a superhero is awesome. Dunno why I never thought of it."

"So, did you ever take gymnastic lessons?" Billy inquired curiously.

"For a few years. Haven't you ever noticed the handstands and cool flips and stuff I do sometimes?"

"What happened?"

A shrug. "Parents divorced, neither wanted to pay for me to continue classes. The Shepherds never had much money to begin with anyway."

"Oh," Billy said, pausing.

He looked at his brother, who was still not meeting his gaze, lying there on the couch with one hand behind his head while the other draped over the edge of the cushions, legs bent up, one crossed over the other, the foot in the air jiggling with hyper energy.

There was so much that Billy didn't know about his brother, he realized.

"I'm sorry," Billy said sincerely.

"Don't be," Tommy said, finally turning to meet the other's gaze, grinning. "I'm a superhero now. And being a superhero is _way _cooler than being an Olympic gymnast."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: In the comics, Pietro had always wanted to be an acrobat. I thought it would be cool if Tommy had had a similar ambition. <strong>

**But of _course _Billy had always wanted to be an Avenger.  
><strong>


	41. Mirror Image

**Mirror Image**

"You know, Tommy," Billy started, "I was thinking—"

"_Uh oh,"_ the speedster cut in. "Please don't."

Billy ignored him and kept on: "—about when we rescued you from Juvie—"

"How about let's _not _think about that, okay? Because I sure as hell don't want to talk about it."

"—and everybody kept saying how you looked exactly like me—"

"Which I _still _don't get. They honestly thought you'd just up and changed your hair and eye color?"

"—and you kept asking if we _really _looked that much alike—"

"It's still kind of weird us being almost identical twins. But useful, if I want to know what a hat looks like on me but I don't happen to have a mirror."

"—and I mean, even _I _could see how we looked the same—"

"Even you, who can't see the danger you are in of being suffocated with a pillow if you keep up this line of conversation."

"—so why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I suffocate you with a pillow? Don't worry, I just haven't gotten around to it yet."

"No, I mean, why didn't you see the resemblance?"

"Ugh, I hate it when you start thinking about stuff."

"Seriously, Tommy. I mean it. Why didn't you?"

"Why do you _think_, Billy-o? We're mirror images of each other, right? There was no way I could have seen that if I hadn't seen a mirror in a while."


	42. Jerk

**Jerk**

Speed had been missing since the battle earlier that day. Billy hadn't been the only one who was freaking out.

It wasn't till dark that the speedster came in through the mansion door, an arm around his ribs, feet dragging with uncharacteristic stiffness and exhaustion.

He stumbled desperately towards the kitchen, practically falling to his knees in front of the refrigerator as he began devouring at superspeed any and all the food that hadn't spoiled.

It was then that Billy came into the room, stopping when he saw his brother, eyes widening.

The speedster was ghostly pallid, his skin covered in glistening sweat and looking strangely papery stretched across his lean frame, his entire body shaking as he knelt there on the floor with fridge door open, a hand reaching tremulously up to wipe the remnants of food from his lips.

"_Tommy?" _Billy said, voice catching. "Are you alright? What happened?! _Where were you?! _I've been worried _sick!" _

The speedster jerked back violently at his brother's voice, eyes wide and wild as his back slammed against the cabinets. The fridge door banged closed.

"_Nothing_ happened," Tommy growled, grabbing the counter above him and pulling himself to his feet. "I'm perfectly o-fucking-kay."

"Tommy, you are such a liar—" Billy started, because it would be obvious to _anyone _that the speedster was anything but alright.

"Okay, fine!" Tommy snapped, a sneer pulling at his features. His back was to the window and his eye sockets were heavily shadowed. "If you hadn't figured it out by now, those missiles that those crazy terrorists fired today that you, like the complete _dunce _you are, completely _didn't notice _because you were too busy saving Teddy's ass, and would have gotten blown up if I hadn't slammed you out of the way? They were the kind that lock onto their targets and chase them." The speedster crossed his arms as he leaned back against the counter. "So, you know, the missiles locked onto me and I led them away out over the ocean somewhere where I could blow them up without them hurting anyone, but it turned out that there were _more_ of those missiles where the original ones had come from, and the blasts knocked me from my feet and into the water. And you know I can run over the water, but it's a whole lot harder to get on top of the water to run across the surface when you're actually _in _the water. And then there was some other stuff, but it's not a big deal, _okay?_"

Billy's eyes were blown wide, his bottom lip trembling. "Tommy—"

"And since you're the one that got me into that shit in the first place," Tommy growled, pushing himself away from the counter and heading stiffly for the door, moving like he would fall over any second, "the least you can do for me is to shut the fuck up and let me be!"

"Look, I—"

"You can blow your stupid fucking apology out your ass, Kaplan you jerk!" Tommy sneered over his shoulder.

"If there's anything I can do—"

"Yeah, actually, there is," Tommy said, giving his brother a caustic smirk. "You can go fuck yourself._" _

"Tommy, I—"

"Can't you leave me alone, dammit?! Just fucking forget about it!"

Billy hurried in front of the speedster, trying to block the hallway, palms up, expression pleased. "Tommy, pl—"

"Billy, get the fucking hell out of my way and leave me the fuck alone!" Tommy snarled as he pushed roughly past his brother.

Billy tried to reach out and grab the speedster's shoulder."Seriously, let me _help _y—"

"You are _such _an ignoramus, you know that?" Tommy snapped, whirling on his brother with a glare fit to kill even the undead. "Now let. Me. The. Fuck. ALONE!"

With that, Tommy turned and sped off, despite how much his body protested the movement, and crashed into his own door, practically falling into his room and shoving the door shut and locking it roughly as he leaned against it and slipped to the floor.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his head against his knees, entire body shaking. "Damn you, Billy Kaplan," he hissed out through clenched teeth. "Damn fucking you."

It wasn't long before there were several pairs of footsteps approaching his door.

"Tommy?" came Wanda's concerned voice. "You need to let us help you."

"You shouldn't insist on trying to deal with everything alone," came Steve's voice.

"Kid, take it from me," said Clint, "you are actin' like an idiot. And this is coming from someone who has _loads_ of practice being an idiot."

"_Fuck off!" _Tommy yelled, tilting his head back against the door and directing his voice up at the ceiling. "I'm _fine, _okay?! I lied to Billy! That didn't all... I just did a lot of running..." His head fell forward against his knees. "I'm just tired," he mumbled, sounding _way_ more pathetic that he liked. "Just let me sleep, okay?"

Ugh, he sounded like he was begging. This was sad. Absolutely pitiful.

"Tommy—" came Wanda's voice again, beseeching.

"You fucking _assholes!_ Can't you let a guy get some stupid fucking _rest _without you hounding him all the fucking time?!"

There was a whispered conversation on the other side of the door that Tommy was far too exhausted to try and overhear.

"Alright, son—"

"I'm not your _son, _Rogers! Stop _calling _me that!"

"—but if you need us, know that you we're always here for you. And nobody here will ever see you as weak for showing some human vulnera—"

"But I'm _not _human! I'm a fucking _mutant!" _Tommy scrubbed violently at his eyes. "And I don't need your Captain America talks, so you can take all that with you and go fuck yourself!"

"_Tommy! _You can't talk like that to—!"

"Let it go, Wanda," came Clint's voice, along with sound of footsteps walking away. "We've all been there."

Once they were gone, Tommy struggled to his feet, staggering over to his bed and collapsing onto the mattress, passing out immediately.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later there was a blue glow around the doorknob, the door unlatching itself quietly and swinging in, a slender figure slipping through.<p>

Coming over to sit on his brother's bed, Billy put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He half expected the speedster to bolt awake, but apparently he really _was _exhausted, because he remained sound asleep.

"You're really a jerk, you know that, Tommy?" Billy mumbled, shaking his head.

He started murmuring a spell under his breath and slowly he could feel the tension and pain leaving his brother's body.

"Try to push us away all you want, Whitey, but it's not going to do anything. You're stuck with people who love you and care about you. Isn't that awful?"

With Tommy now sleeping deeply and painlessly, Billy shifted his weight from the bed and left the room, sending one last look at his sleeping brother before closing the door with a soft _click. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Because Tommy is <em>such <em>a jerk sometimes. He really is. But Billy is a totally sappy, caring person. So, you know, they kind of balance each other out.  
><strong>


	43. Bulletproof Heart

**Bulletproof Heart**

Tommy was cornered in a dead-end alley and the villain had a gun pointed straight at his heart.

"You make one move," the villain said to the gathered Avengers, finger twitching against the trigger, "and this boy dies."

Tommy was grinning like a loon. "Go ahead, pull the trigger," he said, eyes glinting with something like glee, posture completely relaxed. "You can't kill me. I've got a bulletproof heart."

The speedster took a step towards the villain.

"Don't move!" the villain shouted at him, both hands on the gun. "I swear I'll shoot!"

"Then shoot," Tommy said, taking another step, still grinning, daring the man to pull the trigger.

"I swear! Not one more step!"

"Speed! Don't move!" That was an order from Captain America.

Another emerald-footed step, another, another, and the villain pulled the trigger.

"NO!" shouted Steve.

But Tommy just watched the bullet with amusement as it glided slowly towards him and reached out and grabbed the metal projectile between two fingers, halting its trajectory and dropping it to the ground at his feet.

"How?" the villain gaped as he stared at the bullet rolling across the cement. "H-how did you—?"

"I told ya, bulletproof heart," Tommy said with a gesture at his chest, before he smirked and punched the villain in the jaw.

"Speed, I thought I told you not to move," Steve said as he came over to the speedster and the unconscious villain, blond eyebrows raised, even as he smiled slightly and patted the green-and-silver-clad youth on the shoulder.

Tommy gave him a flat stare, before breaking into a smirk. "Captain, do you have _any _idea how slow bullets are? That man couldn't have hit me if I'd _wanted _him to—I would have gotten too bored waiting for it to hit me."

"Don't let this kind of thing get to your head, Speed," Steve warned.

"Captain, you wound me!" Tommy proclaimed, dramatically pressing his hands against his chest, before laughing and reaching up to brush a few strands of snowy hair from his face. "Just kidding, I'm not wounded—my bulletproof heart protects against insults, too."

"Tommy, you're an idiot," came Billy's fond voice as the mage walked over to them, smiling.

The speedster pointed his hands at his brother, fingers folded to make two finger-guns, a grin on his face, left eye winking. "Right back at ya, bro!"


	44. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

"_Can't run now, can you, _boy?"

_Pain, so much pain. He had to block it out, had to ignore it, push himself to his feet, run, he _had _to run, run from whatever they threw at him next. _

_Burns seared his skin from the flame-throwers. Blood flowed from the bullet wounds he'd gotten from the machine guns. _

_He had to keep running.  
>"Run from this, boy." <em>

_Electricity lightning-bolted through his system, brilliant blue-white behind his eyelids, body spasming in indescribable pain before the voltage coursing through him stopped and he fell to the ground. _

"_Can't run _now, _can you?" _

"_I... can always..." he dragged himself to his feet, "always run... _always..."

"_Let's test that, shall we?" _

_Tommy was strapped down to a metal table, the surface freezing cold against the bare skin of his back. _

_Clothed all in white a doctor came over, the metal scalpel in his fingers glinting coldly in the bright, artificial white light. _

"_Can't run now, _can_ you, boy?" _

_The metal was piercing his skin and struggling was futile. _

Tommy bolted awake, green eyes wide and dilated in the dark, streaking out of bed, ripping open his door and speeding out into the hall—

_Whumph!_

He ran straight into Billy, knocking the water glass from the brunette's hands where it struck the floor with a resounding shattering sound.

"Tommy?" Billy said, trying his best to catch the speedster and keep the both of them from toppling over. "What's going on?"

It was dark in the hallway, still the middle of the night, but both their eyes were adjusted and they could see each other clearly, even if only in blacks and grays.

To the mage's surprise, Tommy seemed to clutch him tighter for a moment, burying his face in Billy's neck.

"Yes, you're real, okay," came Tommy's voice, nothing more than a breath.

"Of course I'm real," Billy said, sounding somewhat confused, eyes blinking blearily, still clouded with sleep. "Why wouldn't I be real?"

"Ugh, you smell like that awful geranium shampoo," Tommy said, pushing his brother away and making a face. "You seriously need to get rid of that shit, even if it's Teddy's. Seriously, dump it down the drain or something, it's cloying."

Billy blinked as he took in his brother's bedraggled appearance. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?" he asked, finally making the realization.

Tommy snorted. "What, you didn't? Why are _you _awake?"

"I was thirsty," Billy said. "I got up to get some water." He gestured at the shattered water glass on the ground, raising his eyebrows.

"It's your own fault," Tommy grumbled unapologetically, before he rushed off, returned with a broom and dust pan, swept up the sharp shards of glass, disappeared, and then returned again with empty hands. "But I'll clean up your mess for you."

"Was it bad?" Billy asked.

"Well, the glass _was_ completely shattered into irreparable pieces," Tommy said, shrugging, "so, yeah, I guess you could say it was broken pretty bad. I had to throw the shards out. Don't want anyone stepping on that in the dark, now, do we?"

"No, I meant your dream."

Tommy shrugged again. "Isn't 'bad' part of what makes a nightmare a 'bad dream' rather than a good dream?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Tommy scoffed. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"Because it helps," Billy told him earnestly.

"Uh, I don't think so," Tommy said, smiling without mirth. "Now why don't you go back to bed?"

"Why don't _you _go back to bed?" Bill shot back.

"Because I'm going to go play Clint's bass fishing simulator," Tommy said, turning on his heel and walking away down the hallway.

"Bass fishing simulator?"

"Yeah. It looks exciting. Last time he ended up with the army after him, no health, and fell out of a crashing plane.*"

"In a _bass fishing simulator?!" _

"Yep. I'm going to see if I can possibly do any worse."

Tommy disappeared around a corner, and for a few moments Billy just stood there, teetering indecisively between following his brother or going back to sleep, before finally making up his mind and determinedly following after the speedster.

Tommy might not let Billy comfort him, but the least Billy could do was keep him company and let him know that he wasn't alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>***Clint actually did that. **_LOKI: AGENT OF ASGARD #1. _


	45. Music

**Music**

Sometimes even superheroes needed to forget about the world and let everything go for a little while.

Even crazy speedsters who thought that fighting bad guys was the best thing ever, and acted like everything bad in the world rolled right off them like water off sleek white swan feathers.

So Tommy was in his room with the door closed and his StarkPod connected to the large speakers, blasting music loud enough that everyone else in his apartment building could hear it—not that he cared in the least. His music was awesome, they should enjoy it.

There wasn't much furniture in his apartment, but what little there was had been pushed against the walls, clearing a space in the middle of the floor where he was dancing and thinking about absolutely nothing.


	46. Buttons

**Buttons**

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Poke. Poke.

Poke.

Poke poke poke.

"Tommy, what are you doing?" Teddy asked, glancing down at the smaller, white-headed boy who was standing in front of him and poking the buttons on his button-down shirt in a completely random pattern.

"Pushing your buttons," Tommy said as he poked another button against the alien's muscular chest. "Literally. And hopefully figuratively, too. Is it working?" He looked up at the tall blond with a grin, poking the button right above the alien's navel. "Am I pushing your buttons?"

Poke. Poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke.

Teddy sighed.

"Tommy, what are you doing?" This time, it was Billy who asked, as the witch had just entered the room to see his twin poking his boyfriend in the chest.

"I'm pushing Teddy's buttons," Tommy replied, poking the one between the alien's collar bones. "It's fun! Come join me."

Billy stared, and then he grinned. "Tommy, no, you're doing it wrong," he said, coming over and nudging his twin aside. "You don't want to push his buttons, you want to prod his sensitive spots. Watch this."

And then Billy started dancing his fingers along Teddy's sides, poking and tickling, and the alien was making this strange, high-pitched keening noise and squirming as he giggled and said, "B-billy! Billy—hehe—st-stop!" without actually meaning it because clearly he was enjoying the touches, and Tommy stood back and stared on.

"See, this is the problem with you, Ted," Tommy complained, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the boyfriends, who were now currently both tickling each other and not paying the speedster much attention. "Someone pushes your buttons, you don't react. Someone prods your sensitive spots, and you just laugh. Nothing upsets you! It's ridiculous!" He glared and huffed out an exasperated breath. "In fact, the only time I've ever seen you really upset is when something happens to Billy—_oh." _His eyes sparked and he grinned. "Iknowhowtopissyouoff!"

And with that, Tommy sped forward and grabbed Billy away from the Kree-Skrull and promptly ran off with him.

"Hey!" Teddy protested, growling, skin turning just slightly green. "Give him back!"

Tommy's head peaked around the corner. "If you want him back then you better come get him!"

"Tommy, what the hell?!" came Billy's voice.

The white-haired head retreated. "Hush, I'm trying to piss off your boyfriend."

"You know that isn't going to wo—"

The lightning-quick pitter-patter of footsteps signaled Tommy's hasty departure with his twin.

Teddy just blinked for a moment, then sighed and shook his head as his skin leached of green and returned to a pinkish human color. Tommy would never actually hurt Billy, no matter how hard he tried to get on everybody's bad side.

Tommy adored attention, that much was certain, but why the speedster always seemed to go after the negative kind over the positive, Teddy had no idea. Well, actually, he kind of had an idea: Tommy had had a difficult live, had been neglected and discarded and abused, and seemed to always have the urge to try to push buttons and test the boundaries of people's care for him, to see when they would cast him aside as well.

But Teddy sure wasn't going to let Tommy get his way of feeling hated by everybody. Tommy was Teddy's boyfriend's brother, and Teddy was going show him only love until the speedster either went crazy or finally just gave in and just accepted the fact that he was never going to be hated and tossed away again.

Glancing down at his shirt, Teddy saw that one of the buttons had become un-buttoned, so he re-buttoned it.

How in the world Tommy thought pushing Teddy's buttons would actually push his buttons, Teddy really had no idea. He smiled slightly. Honestly, it had actually been rather adorable.

* * *

><p>Tommy had only run Billy over to the roof of the building across the street, where he then sat down with his twin under his arm and waited.<p>

"He's not coming," Billy told him, somewhat smugly, drumming his fingers against Tommy's thigh. "You know this is ridiculous, right? Teddy only gets mad at people when they give him a really good reason, and when they thoroughly deserve it."

"And stealing you isn't a really good reason?" Tommy asked, glancing down at his brother who was stretched across the roof and currently basically using his lap as a pillow. "I thought you two were like completely and hopelessly headlong in lovey-dovey koala-clingy stuff. And wait, did you just say I'm undeserving of being mad at?"

Billy rolled his eyes. "By the gods, Tommy, you're hopeless. You really don't get it, do you?" The mage rolled onto his side and propped his elbow up on Tommy's leg, looking at him seriously. "You really don't get that—"

"Oh hey!" Tommy said, eyes lighting up as his gaze landed on his twin's button-down shirt. "You have buttons too!" He reached out a finger and started poking the shirt buttons against Billy's lean chest.

Poke poke poke.

Poke.

Poke. Poke.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Am I pushing your buttons?"

Billy groaned, facepalming. "Tommy, you are _so _hopeless." And then he threw himself against the speedster and knocked them both off the roof.

"Oy!" Tommy exclaimed, actually caught off guard, though even as he uttered the startled noise he was already turning in the air to make sure that he landed on his feet and could keep his brother from hitting the ground.

However, they never had the chance to hit the ground, because there was a flash of blue and a smothering of dark nothingness and then they both fell out of the air inside Avengers Mansion and landed right on top of an unsuspecting Teddy.

"Whoa!" the alien said as he was knocked to the ground and suddenly found the two twins piled on top of his chest.

"Tommy was pushing my buttons!" Billy huffed as he got off his boyfriend enough to throw himself at his brother, who was trying to escape. "Help me get him back by tickling him!"

And then both Teddy and Billy were grinning and tickling the speedster, who was squirming and laughing and (kind of) trying to get away and saying, "Guys! Guys—heheh-hey! St-stop it!" but not really meaning it because secretly, though he'd never ever admit it upon pain of being injected by syringes of mysterious and experimental substances, he was actually enjoying the friendly touches and attention.


	47. Brotherly Bonding

**Brotherly Bonding**

Getting woken up by someone bouncing on his bed wasn't something Billy was entirely unused to. He had two little brothers, after all.

What he _wasn't _used to was being woke up by his _twin _bouncing on his bed, and since his twin was, well, his twin, he was the same size as Billy and way bigger than his two little brothers, which meant that Tommy bouncing on his bed mean that Billy was really _bounced. _

"Hey brother! Wake up!" Tommy crowed, as he jumped from one side of the bed to the other, straight over the mage that was lying in the middle. "We've got a full day ahead! Place to be! Things to do! People to see!"

Billy's head was bouncing uncomfortably against his pillow. "Tommy," he grumbled as he extended a sleepy, lethargic hand to try to push his twin off the bed. Which of course didn't work, but hey, it was worth a try. "It's _Sunday. _We _don't _have anything we need to do."

"Sure we do!" Tommy said, and this time put more energy and weight into his jump, the impact of which literally lifted Billy's body completely up off the mattress. "This day is ours for the taking, and we are going to _take _it by it's stupid little throat and strangle all the enjoyment out of it that we can!"

"The futz?!" Billy said, partly due to what Tommy had said and partly due to the fact that he'd been bounced _completely into the air. _

"Come _on, _silly Billy! Get _up!" _That time Tommy jumped hard enough that he bounced the mage right off the bed and onto the floor.

"_Tommy!"_ Billy shrieked in indignation as he sat up and rubbed furiously at his eyes in order to be able to better glare at his jerk of a twin brother. Once he felt like most of the sleepy haze from gone from his gaze, he employed his glare against the speedster. Only then did he notice that his room was still filled with the bluish tint of very-early-morning-light.

"Wait, what time is it?" he said, glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "It's six AM?! _Six AM?! _Tommy you are _evil, _why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?!"

"Because I'm a morning person?" Tommy suggested with a shrug, before tossing himself across Billy's bed so that he was smiling down at the mage who was crumpled on the floor with all the sheets. "Come on, Billy-o! Let's do some brotherly bonding shit! It's morning and it's all clear and cold and fresh outside and stuff!"

"Six in the morning," Billy groaned, face in his hands. "It's six in the morning and I'm awake. This should _not be happening." _

Tommy reached down an arm and poked him in the shoulder. "What, you aren't a morning person? I thought you liked being a superhero? And you know that being a superhero entails waking up at absolutely any time of the morning or night in order to save the world and never ever getting enough sleep."

"Is the world ending?" Billy asked through his hands.

"No," Tommy answered.

"Is New York being attacked?"

"No."

Billy removed his fingers from his face and glowered up at his brother. "Then I _shouldn't be awake. _Like you said, we never get enough sleep. Therefore, when the world _isn't _ending and we _aren't _being attacked, I should be _allowed to sleep." _

"Oh, don't be such a grumpy louse," Tommy snorted, springing up off the bed and onto his feet, raiding Billy's closet and tossing clothes at the mage, successfully throwing them over the brunette's head. "You can sleep later! Fun time is now!"  
>"Let's see how much fun you find it when I <em>murder you," <em>Billy grumbled, pulling the shirt and pants from off his head.

"Hey! If you have to kill anybody, kill Teddy!" Tommy protested as he crossed his arms and huffed. "He's the one who put me up to this!"

Billy glowered at him disbelievingly. _"Teddy _told you to wake me up at six in the futzing morning?"

"No, Teddy told me that I needed to be nicer to you and do brotherly bonding stuff because apparently you love me," Tommy said, snorting and rolling his eyes. "You really think something with the term 'brotherly bonding' in it would be _my _idea?"

Billy just stared at him. "Teddy tells you to be _nicer _to me, and the first thing you do is _wake me up at six in the morning?" _

"Wow, you really aren't a morning person, are you?" Tommy smirked, dashing over and throwing the curtains open, letting the bluish morning light stream into the dim room, causing the mage to cover his eyes from the sudden brightness change. "If we were all like you in the end, well we'd be killing ourselves by sleeping in. And just look!" Tommy gestured out the window at the city. "People who use words like 'beautiful' to describe the weather and atmosphere and shit would call this a beautiful day! Such a thing should not be wasted, even more a moment!"

"Breakfast," Billy grumbled, dropping the clothes that Tommy had thrown at him to the floor and shuffling towards the door of his room still clad in his pajamas. "I can't deal with you until I've had breakfast. And coffee. I need lots of coffee."

* * *

><p>After breakfast and lots of coffee (which Tommy was no allowed to consume <em>any <em>of, because goodness knows that if Tommy was already in this hyper of a mood he didn't need _caffeine _to make it any worse), Billy was feeling much better.

"So, brotherly bonding, you said?" he grinned at his twin as he put his dishes in the sink. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, let's go find some bad guys to beat up," Tommy said immediately from where he was occupying himself moonwalking circles around the kitchen, arms pumping exaggeratedly as he slid backwards, making a very convincing show of trying to move forwards.

Billy rolled his chestnut eyes. "That doesn't count as brotherly bonding."

"Why not?" Tommy moonwalked past him for about the hundred-and-somethingth time.

"Because we already do that all the time," Billy said, giving his twin an unimpressed look. "If we're going to brotherly bonding, we're going to brotherly _bonding." _

"Wait," Tommy said, regarding the mage with a raised eyebrow as he continued sliding backwards around the kitchen table, "brotherly _bonding_ isn't actually supposed to involve being _bound, _right? Because if fighting bad guys doesn't count then I don't think getting kidnapped together should count, either." Then, before Billy could even begin to pull together an answer, Tommy's eyes lit up and he spun around to point both fingers at the mage. "Oh! I got it! We could fight bad guys while handcuffed together! That would count as brotherly _bonding, _right?" He was grinning rather smugly.

Groaning, Billy shook his head and palmed his eyes. "You're ridiculous. And Teddy thought this would work?"

"Apparently, because he totally found something else to do so that you couldn't spend the day with him," Tommy shrugged and sagged into a chair, kicking his feet up onto the kitchen table. "I don't get it. I mean, what, do we not get along or something?"

Billy raised his dark eyebrows at the speedster.

"Whatever though," Tommy grinned, waving a hand and jumping back up to his feet, dashing over to grab his brother's arm. "I'm bored, and you're my official person-to-keep-me-not-bored for the day, so come on! Let's hit this city! We'll paint the streets purple or something!"

"Purple?" was all Billy managed to ask before the speedster picked him up and sped him outside and through the city.

For Billy, everything was a blur of so much color it smeared into whiteness all around him and he was surrounded by wind, before he suddenly found himself set down on a sidewalk somewhere.

Tommy was holding a couple cans of purple spray paint, grinning.

"No," Billy said severely.

"Aww, please?!"

"No."

"Just a little bit?"

"_No." _

"Damn, you're _such _a killjoy! Aww, well, figured it was worth a try."

The world smudged around Billy again, and then he was standing on a field in central park, and Tommy was standing there grinning and holding a hacky-sack. "You know how to play?"

Billy blinked at him. "Um, not really," he admitted.

"I'll teach you!" Tommy said reassuringly, grinning. "And I promise to go slow enough for you to mostly keep up!"

"Thanks," was the dry, but smiled, reply.

* * *

><p>A few hours of hacky-sacking later and Billy was lying prostrate on the grass, moaning slightly, though whether from being frustrated or tired it was a little unclear. Possibly both.<p>

"You know, you really weren't that bad for someone who focuses more on mystical desire stuff than on physical prowess," Tommy told him cheerfully, kneeling down to poke the mage in the side.

"Shuddup," Billy grumbled at him.

"You just need to work on your foot-eye coordination a little bit. And learn to resist the urge to catch the hacky-sack with your hands."

"Shuddup."

"Really, though, that was your first time playing hacky-sack? All things considered, you really weren't that bad! Even though you still totally sucked."

"Shuddup."

"We should go find Teddy! Then all three of us can play, and you won't have to be the only one who sucks!"

"Nnnnnn."

"Okay fine, no more hacky-sacking today. We'll teach Teddy hacky-sack another day."

"Unnnnnngh. Please let it be lunch right now."

Tommy glanced at his watch. "Nope. It's only like just past ten!"

"Futz."

There was a whoosh of wind as Tommy disappeared, and that breeze hadn't even quite faded off when it was renewed by the whoosh of Tommy's return.

"Energy bar?" the speedster offered, holding out a wrapped bar of nuts and dried fruit to his brother, already opening one for himself with his teeth.

Billy glanced up at him from through the green blades of grass. "That's not good for your teeth, you know," he said as Tommy ripped the plastic open.

"What_ever," _Tommy rolled his eyes, still holding out the bar to his brother. "You gonna take it or what?"

Sitting up, Billy somewhat gratefully took the offered food, tearing the wrapper off with his fingers. "Thanks," he said.

Tommy just shrugged, stuffing the last of his own bar into his mouth and chewing so fast his jaw blurred.

"Tommy," Billy said as he ate his bar much more slowly.

"Yeah?" Tommy had finished and dashed off to toss the wrapper in a trash can, taking a detour to a water fountain, before sitting back down next to his brother, hands behind him and legs stretched out in front.

"Do you ever wonder—"

"If you're about to ask if I ever wonder where we go when we die, the answer is no, because I know we're all going to hell (which should be okay because I've heard they have great dance parties). Except for Teddy, he won't go to hell because you know they're actually going to create a heaven just for him (because he's such a sickeningly _good_ person, it's disgusting). And then you're going to tear down the underworld to be with him (because you're going to hell even if you're good because our souls are like part of Mephisto's or something right?) and everything will go crazy nuts and ghosts will spill onto Earth and haunt everybody, and then the Punisher will go punish whoever killed you and Teddy for doing that to you and therefore causing all of reality to go all crazy fucked and fall apart and stuff, and then he'll double-kill you and the underworld will fall apart and all the ghosts and spirits will disappear and from then on everybody who dies will simply cease to exist." Tommy paused for a split second. "Honestly, I hope it's death is just like a really deep, peaceful sleep where you don't dream or have nightmares or anything, and you never wake up."

"Um," Billy blinked, trying to make sense of that, which was hard, since though Tommy hadn't been talking at superspeed he'd still been talking fast and without pauses and it had been kind of hard to catch, much less make any sense of. Something about hell and reality falling apart and Teddy and sleep. Which didn't have anything to do with what Billy was about to ask. "Actually, I was wondering if you ever wondered about whether—"

"Whether escargot tastes as disgusting as cooked snails sounds like it should taste? The answer is no. I tried escargot in France, once—it just kind of tastes like butter and garlic. What's _really _disgusting is shellfish. I've discovered that I hate shellfish. Shellfish is revolting and makes me gag and throw up."

"Cars going? What? Are you calling me a snail again? No, what I was actually wondering was if you've ever wondered about whether we're—"

"About whether we're identical enough that if I dyed my hair black and you bleached yours white, and you wore green contacts and I wore brown ones, that we would actually be able to fool people? I think we could, yeah. I mean, when I first joined your team, people kept mistaking me for you even _with _my white hair and green eyes. I think we'd probably have a bit of difficulty acting like each other, because you're too reserved and I'd be too tempted to parody your ridiculous stupidity, but I think it would be worth it to pull off just one really good prank like that one time. Although I don't really want to dye my hair, or put contacts in my precious eyes, so maybe you could use your magic to temporarily make our hair and eye color's look like each other's. I mean, could you _imagine _how much trouble we could cause as each other? Or, like, how we could totally throw our enemies off? Because they'd be expectingn you to use superspeed and me to use magic, and then we'd do the opposite, and they wouldn't be prepared for that and would be like 'What the fuck?!'—that would be hilarious, dont'cha think?"

"What? No, I'm asking if you've you ever wondered about whether we're actually two parts of the same soul?"

This time it was Tommy's turned to be completely confused. "What?"

"Like, do you ever feel kinda like not all of you is there, kind broken, and wondered if you put both our souls together whether you'd actually get a whole one?" Billy specified, chewing on his lip slightly.

"Uh, no," Tommy snorted. "First of all, Teddy is the one who makes you complete or whatever, that much is obvious. And secondly, if we _are _two broken parts of one complete and perfect soul, then you got all the 'good goody' attributes, and I got all the 'bad boy' attributes as well as the all the hotness." He smirked. "And you know how girls like the bad boys, so I totally win. And actually," his smirk grew, "that would explain why you're gay. Because girls would never go for you anyway."

Billy just blinked at him for a few moments, before he laughed, leaning over to shove his brother in the shoulder. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"_Ugh, _you're turning into Teddy," Tommy groaned, rolling with the shove and letting the momentum bring him to his feet. "It's getting harder and harder to piss you off. Dammit, this must be remedied. I need to get you furious by the end of this stupid outing." The speedster zipped off, only to return with colorful plastic disc, grinning. "Wanna play frisbee, bro? I have the strong desire to kick your ass at something again."

Billy glared at him. "You suck."

Tommy just grinned. _"That's _better!"


	48. Empathy

**AN: This takes place right after the end of the comic _CIVIL WAR: YOUNG AVENGERS & RUNAWAYS. _**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Empathy<span>**

The Runaways had just left, and the Young Avengers were heading back towards aircraft they'd stolen from Captain America's secret underground rebel headquarters.

Speed sidled up next to Hulkling, rubbing a hand back through his white hair glancing at the blond's exposed stomach, the fabric having been cut away, pale, slightly raised scars adorning the tan skin. The scars looked years old by now, but given the shapeshifter's rather incredible healing factor, there was no doubt that he'd sustained those injuries not too much earlier, when he'd been locked up in the Cube.

"So, uh," Speed gestured at the scars, some of which were vertical, some horizontal, some diagonal, but all very clean and specific. "They opened you up to take a look at your organs, huh? No anesthetic, I'm guessing? Man, that really hurts."

The speedster's lips quirked slightly, something dark and hidden in his eyes, but he walked off before Teddy could even begin to say that he'd actually been unconscious for the entire vivisection and hadn't felt it. And then Teddy didn't even have time to begin to realize that that had been genuine, haunted empathy behind those vivid green orbs before Billy was coming over to him and wrapping him in a hug, beginning to sob against him as they entered the aircraft and everything that had happened to them in the period of a few short hours crushed down on the witch, and the shapeshifter held his boyfriend close and whispered to him that everything would be okay.

From where he was slumped in the seat next to the couple, Tommy couldn't help but overhear, shaking his head slightly as he wished that everything _would_ be okay, but knowing that it wouldn't.

There would always be people out there who would do the kinds of things to people that had been done to Tommy, to Teddy, to that Noh-Varr character.

But they were superheroes, and it was their job to do whatever they could to stop that kind of shit from happening to anyone else.

Tommy wished he could have prevented what happened to Teddy and Noh-Varr. Nobody deserved that kind of abuse and torture. Not mutants, and certainly not aliens, either.


	49. The Sacrifice Play

**The Sacrifice Play**

"You know, Tommy," Billy said, staring his brother straight in the face from behind his hand of playing cards, gaze intense, "I'd take a bullet for you."

Tommy snorted derisively. "That's stupid!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up and leaning back in his chair so that the front legs left the ground, his feet kicked up on the table. "Why the hell would you do that? You'd never _need_ to take a bullet for me. I can dodge bullets easy-peasy." He gave his brother an indignant look.

"But if you couldn't dodge," Billy said, expression and tone still completely serious.

"Okay, fine," Tommy said, removing his feet from the table and leaning forward, letting the chair legs fall back to the ground as he placed his hands on the wood surface, staring hard at his brother over the card game they'd been playing, "let's say I couldn't dodge and you couldn't get me out of the way. Let's say that jumping in front of me and taking the bullet for me was literally the _only _way to keep me from getting hit, and there was _no _alternative." He kept hold of his brother's eyes, expression strangely fierce. "But even _if_ that was situation, it would be better to just let me get hit by the bullet rather than jumping in front of me."

Billy looked about to object, but the speedster didn't give him the opportunity to get so much as a breath in.

"Because _one,"_ Tommy continued, holding up a finger close to the witch's face, "I'm better at dealing with pain, and it would hurt me less." He held up a second finger. "_Two,_ because I heal faster and more effectively than you do, and I'd be more likely to survive. And _three," _a third finger shot up_, "_because _you're _the healer, and if _I_ got hit then you could just use your magic to heal me; but if _you _get hit, how much good is your magic to anyone?"

Billy just stared at him. "...I would die for you."

"Dammit, you are _so _fucking _stupid!"_ Tommy declared, making an obtrusive 'what the hell' gesture. "That is _completely _idiotic, bro. I mean, I knew you were stupid, but I didn't know you were _that _stupid."

Billy's face darkened.

"Dying for me is the fucking _stupidest _thing you could _possibly _do," Tommy charged on, leaning back and crossing his arms, glaring at the boy sitting across from him who was exactly his mirror image, except in hair and eye color. "Because, again, I'm more durable than you," he unfolded an arm to point at the mage, "and what would kill you might not actually kill me. And also, you and Teddy are so fucking close, you really think he'd be able to survive your death? I mean, how would _you _feel if Teddy died?"

Tommy watched as Billy's face changed from being ruddy with anger to being blanched with slight horror.

"And you know that _he _would feel the same if _you _died." The speedster's face was darkly triumphant. "So _therefore_, by dying, you'd basically kill _him, _too. So basically, by dying to save me, you'd kill Teddy, and then two people would be dead instead of one. Also," Tommy gestured to indicate the Kaplanses' house around them, "you have an entire _family _to think of: a mom and dad and two obnoxious little brothers who would all be _heartbroken. _While as if _I _died, the only people who would care is our team."

Tommy lifted his white eyebrows slightly, lips twisting towards a complacent smirk. "So I die and less people get hurt than if you die. _Therefore,_ your priority should be keeping _you _alive," he pointed at Billy, "not me," he gestured at himself, almost disparagingly, "'cause you'll be doing the entire world more favor that way."

Billy could only gape at the speedster for a moment, face frozen in an expression that seemed to be some sort of combination of shock, fury, self-righteous indignation, and horrified disgust. "Dammit, Tommy!" he exclaimed as soon as he'd gotten his mouth connected to his brain again, slamming his hands down on the table. "You don't get it! I _love _you!" He stared his brother straight in the face, fiercely determined. "I _care _about you! And because of that I'd rather die than lose you!"

Tommy just smirked lazily at him."First of all, if you die, then you still lose me," the speedster pointed out, face scrawled all over with self-satisfaction. "And secondly, brother, you're a stupid fucking idiot who thinks the sacrifice play is noble. You'd die for a _lot _of things. That you'd die for me doesn't say anything."

Suddenly Tommy was leaning almost all the way across the table, gaze steely, scattering the cards of their game and causing Billy to automatically flinch back into his chair.

"What I want to know is," Tommy's voice lowered to a whisper, then, lips quirking into a humorless smirk as he tilted his head, green eyes scanning his brother's face, "do you love me enough that you would _kill _for me?"

Not even waiting for an answer, Tommy ran off in a silver blur and a gust of wind, leaving Billy to sit there stunned and stricken and staring blankly at the space where the speedster had been.


	50. Hopscotch

**AN: Don't let Tommy get bored. Seriously.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Hopscotch<span>**

"There's nothing to dooooooo," Tommy whined, tossing himself backwards over the top of the couch so that his legs were folded over the backrest and his back and head were lying against Billy and Teddy's legs, the two of them having been sitting right next to each other and leaning in for a kiss. "I'm bored out of my fucking miiiiind!"

"Tommy!" Billy protested, having had to jerk his head back to avoid getting smacked by the speedster tumbling into his and his boyfriend's laps. "Must you _always _do that?"

"Do whaaaaat?" Tommy half drawled and half whined, sticking his legs up in the air and kicking them like he was pedalling a bicycle. "I'm not doing aaaanything 'cause there's nothing to doooo!"

"You just cockblocked us," Billy snapped, grabbing his brother's legs and pulling them forward over the speedster's face so that he was forced to roll backwards off the couch and onto the floor, where he landed in a crouch and then huffed, legs sliding out from under him so that he was sitting in perfect center-splits against the bottom of the couch, folding his arms on the seat cushions and resting his chin on his hands.

"I didn't actually mean to, that time," Tommy said, voice sounding ridiculously young and whiny. "I was just looking for you guys 'cause there's literally _no-fucking-thing _to do."

Teddy took the opportunity to interject, patting Tommy on the head and saying, "There's always _some_thing to do, Tommy."

"There's _not!" _the speedster complained.

"You just haven't looked hard enough," Teddy said.

"I _have, _though!" Tommy growled, pushing himself away from the couch and gathering his outstretched legs back under him, hopping to his feet and starting to pace back and forth in front of them, gesticulating wildly. "Looking for something to do is _all _I've been doing for the past ten minutes since I finished my work for the morning and I _can't find anything!" _

"Then you're not being creative enough," Teddy supplied oh-so-helpfully.

"Gods, Tommy, you're acting like an elementary schooler," Billy said, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you go play hopscotch or something else that betrays your actual mental age of six?"

Tommy stopped pacing and stared at his brother. "Hopscotch," he repeated, voice toneless and face unreadable.

"That's what I said." Billy crossed his arms.

Then Tommy was gone.

"Well, that worked," Billy said happily, turning to his boyfriend with a somewhat surprised but smug grin.

"Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling that he's going to do something that will get him in trouble?" Teddy asked warily.

"Because he has a penchant for doing that," Billy answered, smirking slightly and rolling his eyes, before grabbing his boyfriend's color and pulling the blond's face closer towards him, brown eyes sparkling. "Now," he said, lips barely half a centimeter from the Kree-Skrull's, "where were we again?"

* * *

><p>Tommy had some cans of purple spray paint. He also had an entire city spread out around him.<p>

He grinned, then shaking a can of spray paint, started running, painting lines and boxes on the ground as he went.

He started at the front of Avengers Mansion, then went out into the street, waiting as patiently as he could for cars to move out of the way of his painting as he marked up the streets. When he ran out of spray paint after several blocks, he went back and fetched another one, then ran back and started back up where he'd stopped, winding his masterpiece through the streets of New York.

Ugh, though, it really was annoying with all the cars loitering in the way. Sometimes he ended up just painting their tires a little bit, when they wouldn't move fast enough out of where he wanted to paint the road.

And there was this one car that—oh hey, that dude in that car with the toothbrush mustache and flattop haircut was J. Jonah Jameson!

Tommy grinned and spray-painted 'I LOVE SPIDERMAN' on the man's car.

Then he continued with his work, all the way up to Avengers Tower, which he paused for only a fraction of a second before grinning and running up the side of the tower, spray-painting purple lines as he went.

It's not like there was any real harm in what he was doing, since really, after his fun and after he got into trouble with the Avengers for graffiti-ing the city and their tower, Billy would just come along and magic it all away. Advantages of having a reality-warping witch for a brother.

Once he was done, Tommy stood on the top of Avengers Tower and surveyed his work from above for a moment, grinning, before running back to Avengers Mansion to begin his massive game of hopscotch.

* * *

><p>Jump jump, one foot, two feet, one foot, one foot, around this car, around that car, of fuck this straight <em>over <em>this car, two feet, one foot, two feet, one foot, one foot, handstand just for the hell of it, oops get out of the way of the car, one foot, one foot, two feet, front handspring into a couple squares, backflip over this car, two feet, one foot, one foot, aerial, run run hitch-kick just for the hell of it, one foot, avoid the car, one foot, avoid the car, two feet, avoid another car, jump straight over this car, one foot, two feet, one foot, one foot.

Tommy grinned as he hopscotched through the streets. This actually _was _rather fun. He was enjoying himself, so, it would be so totally worth it when he got in trouble later. No regrets!

After much superspeed jumping and random acrobatics tossed in just to liven things up, Tommy came to the last leg of his hopscotch marathon: the sheer side of Avengers Tower.

The speedster didn't hesitate for so much as a split second before running up to begin hopping at superspeed up the side of the building, seeing how many tricks he could throw in while still keeping enough forward momentum to get up up the ninety-degree slope.

* * *

><p>Captain Marvel was flying over New York when something caught her eye.<p>

It was... purple. Purple lines spreading through the city streets, and then—rage boiled in her gut—up the side of _Avengers Tower. _

Whatever this was, it was _not _acceptable.

As she flew towards the tower, continuing to observe, the purple path—wait, was that a huge game of _hopscotch?—_seemed to be dashed over in a blur, and as she flew up to the top of Avengers Tower—

"Hell yeah!" Tommy was standing there, whooping and throwing his arms into the air, jumping around. "Who knew hopscotch could be so much fun?!"

* * *

><p>Several minutes after Tommy left, there was a knock on the mansion door.<p>

"I'll get it," Teddy offered, disentangling himself from his disappointed boyfriend and heading to the door, opening it.

Captain Marvel was standing there, a stern, decidedly unpleased expression on her face, holding onto a grinning Tommy's wrist with one hand. "I need Wiccan," Carol Danvers stated.

"Uh, yeah," Teddy said, raising an eyebrow at the speedster with a 'what the hell did you do now?' look, before turning to call over his shoulder, "Billy! Captain Marvel wants to see you!"

"She does?" Billy asked, getting off the couch and coming to the door, blinking as he took in the sight before him. "Oh. What did he do?"

"I'm right here, you know!" Tommy said, huffing and trying to cross his arms, though he could only cross one because the other was being held in the steely grip of Captain Marvel.

"He says you told him to go play hopscotch," Carol stated.

"Uh, yeah?" Billy asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

"I think he took you more literally than you meant." Carol stepped aside, gesturing at the purple spray-painted hopscotch game that started at the bottom of the mansion's steps, and stretched out onto the street.

"Um," was all the witch managed.

"It goes all the way to the top of Avengers Tower," Carol said, voice level.

"Oh," Billy said.

Teddy, standing behind the mage, hid an amused snort by turning it into a cough.

"I need you to get rid of it," Carol intoned.

Billy turned to look at his brother, giving him an exasperated look. "Really, Tommy? _Really?" _

"Hey, I _told _you I was dying of boredom," Tommy defended, vibrating himself out of Captain Marvel's grip and dashing behind Teddy, staring out at the threatening blond woman from behind the larger bulk of the Kree-Skrull. The speedster smirked slightly. "And hey, it was fun!"

"Don't you _dare _to something like that _ever _again," Carol told him severely, narrowing her eyes, absentmindedly cracking the knuckles of a fist.

Tommy's laughter echoed as he ran off into the mansion.

Billy sighed and started reciting a spell to get rid of the hopscotch game.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Written for the prompt 'Hopscotch.'<strong>

**Might have gotten kind of crack-y. But... it just kind of... happened... **


	51. Not Okay

**AN: ****The prompt for this chapter was the word 'And.' My sister was trying to stump me. It didn't work ;) **

* * *

><p><span><strong>Not Okay<strong>

Tommy hadn't lived what one would call a good life.

He'd been born to the Shepherds, who happened to be some really fucking narrow-minded people, and labeled a freak from the very beginning due to his white hair (it wasn't _normal, _it wasn't _natural_). And it hadn't helped that he was very quickly diagnosed with ADHD, his mind and body restless even before his superspeed mutation kicked in; he was impatient and he was fidgety and he was easily distracted and he was unfocused and he was mercurial and he was the very embodiment of a disappointment.

And then his parents had divorced, and he'd been tossed between the two households, neither wanting him, both trying to be rid of him as much as possible. And he'd hated school, hated sitting in a classroom all fucking day long, not moving, not learning hardly anything interesting at all,and he was always getting in trouble in school for his attitude and behavior and not doing his work, and he didn't have any friends because everyone already thought he was a freak, and he'd been bored out of his mind all the fucking time and had started committing petty crimes, just for the thrill of it.

He'd started out with small thefts of cash, or small thefts of food from grocery stores (and maybe he'd started stealing food in the first place because each of his parents thought it was the job of the other to keep him fed, and as a result he was hungry all the fucking time). And then he'd worked himself up, starting to steal larger things, and more often, and maybe he'd hot-wired a few cars and broken into a few houses just to see if he could. And maybe he'd gotten caught a few times, and his parents had bailed him out of juvie because they still had some kind of image to keep up, and maybe they'd threatened him and told him to behave and maybe he hadn't listened or given a damn.

And then his powers had manifested and he'd blown up his school (and maybe he'd been freaking out over a timed essay and started feeling sick and asked to go to the restroom and maybe just maybe he hadn't been allowed to leave the room and had panicked and started shaking and vibrating and then everything went _BOOM _and he'd been huddled in a ball while ash fell around him and listening to people scream and scream).

And then the feds showed up and handcuffed him and led him away, and he was locked up in juvie again, only this time the juvie was _different, _and maybe he'd had to watch and listen while his parents signed away all his rights and allowed those people to do _anything _to him, and maybe he'd begged a little and maybe he'd cried a little, and maybe he'd watched as they both turned their backs on him and left without looking back, telling him that he wasn't their son.

(And maybe that hadn't been as hard to accept as it probably should have been.)

And then he'd been locked up in juvie, and he'd been experimented on, and prodded, and tested, and maybe some of it could definitely count as inhumane treatment and as torture, and maybe he'd had to do a little killing, and maybe he'd died a little, and maybe it all had fucked him up in the head.

But then, before he could completely lose himself, he'd been broken out by the Young Avengers, and they'd accepted him into their team, even if only out of necessity so he could help them rescue the alien boyfriend of the guy who looked _just like Tommy _apparently. And maybe they hadn't trusted him, and maybe they hadn't even liked him, and maybe they'd thought he was a total sociopath, but they hadn't gotten him sent back.

And maybe he liked being a superhero. Maybe he liked helping people, and beating up bad guys, and saving the world, and working on a team with people who were almost as much freaks as he was, and maybe he'd even started to like them and had started to maybe even feel accepted for himself and not completely hated and like he maybe belonged somewhere.

And then they'd went looking for the Scarlet Witch, and Tommy had been forced to realize that he really _was _the spiritual twin of Billy, and the spiritual son of Wanda, and the spiritual grandson of Magneto, and the spiritual nephew of Quicksilver, and maybe he figured it wouldn't count for anything because the idea of 'family' had never meant much to him, and everything about the Maximoffs felt just kind of fucked up anyway. (So maybe he should have known he'd fit right in.)

And then all the adult superheroes were acting stupid and getting upset and not listening or thinking, and Cassie had gotten killed, and Vision had gotten destroyed by a heartbroken Nate, who then disappeared back into the timestream.

And the Young Avengers fell apart. Eli made a stupid mistake and felt all the blame on his shoulders and quit, and Kate felt guilty and like all the blame was on her shoulders and quit, and Billy felt like all the blame was on his shoulders because it had all been his idea and _he _quit, too, and just sat there in his room staring out the window for months. And Teddy didn't exactly quit or give up, but he was so damn supportive of his boyfriend and apparently he 'understood' so he basically quit as well.

And then it was just Tommy, and Tommy didn't _want _to quit.

And maybe he'd hung around with the Kaplanses for a while, but they drove him bananas with how damn sappy and 'understanding' they all were, and maybe he was also kind of afraid that the people from juvie would find him again if he stayed too long in one spot, so he moved out, striking out on his own and getting his own and getting a new apartment every month or so and travelling around and betting his own job and even finding a friend (they had noodles _once _and coffee _once_, which was basically more than Tommy had done with anybody else, even kind of the Young Avengers when they'd been together, so he and David were _totally _friends, because if hanging out and eating and talking wasn't friendship then what was?).

And then there'd been the warehouse, and then the New Year's party, and all that confusing shit, and apparently he'd been gone from existence for months and some of the Young Avengers had banded together again, and added some new faces to the group, and saved the world, and Tommy had missed it.

But at least he'd gotten to hear about it, and least Billy and Teddy and Kate were superheroes again and it wasn't just Tommy anymore.

So, yeah, Tommy had had a pretty shitty life. But he was feeling pretty good about where he was now, and if given the choice he wouldn't have changed anything that had happened to him. Because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? And he wouldn't be _Tommy_ if he hadn't gone through all that crap and come out of it alive—scarred, damaged, fucked up—definitely not okay, but _alive._

But maybe things might be kind of okay for him from here on out.

Maybe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And then it got all angsty. And basically just turned into a summary of Tommy's life. Oy.<br>**


	52. Cicerone Speed

**AN: Cicerone**—_noun:_ a person who conducts sightseers; guide.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Cicerone Speed<strong>

Tommy pointed his video camera at the front of Avengers Mansion.

"Alright, Princess! This is your video tour of The Mansion Of Avengers. I am Speed, and I will be your cicerone for the tour!"

The speedster turned the camera to face him, flashed a grin and a thumbs-up, and then pointed it back at the front of Avengers Mansion again. Then he sped up to the door.

"Behold, The Door Of Opening! Although admittedly, sometimes some of us aren't patient enough to actually _open _the door and crash through it instead, and then we either have Billy fix it with his magic powers or we have Tony Stark buy a new one. Now!"

Tommy opened the door and dashed inside, slamming it behind him and pointing the camera around the large room that the front door immediately opened into where there were some tables and chairs, saying, "This is One Of The Rooms Of Hanging Out! Except currently there's nobody here so let's go!" before streaking off down the hall. "This is The Hallway Of Portraits Of Avengers! Please note the sentimentality of it all, and don't doubt that sometimes you can catch current Avengers staring at the photos of Avengers who have died and have their little memory moments that are not to be interrupted."

Skidding into a room with a TV, some couches, and some certain boyfriends sitting on one of said couches and smooching, Tommy swept the camera around the room before pointing it at the kissing couple, declaring, "This is Another One Of The Rooms Of Hanging Out, And Also Smooching! And this is my twin—I'm sure you can tell—Billy—you remember him, right, Princess?—The Witch Of Repetitive Incantations And Reality Warping Abilities That Scare The Crap Outta The Adults. And you've also met the guy kissing him, Teddy Bear Altman, The Prince And Soldier Of The Kree Empire And Also The Prince And Savior Of The Skrull Empire. You remember all that crazy stuff that went down during the Secret Invasion, right Mol?*"

By this time Teddy and Billy had pulled apart and were giving Tommy and his video camera confused and incredulous looks.

"Tommy, what in the world are you doing?" Billy asked.

"Video tour of The Mansion Of Avengers!" Tommy grinned, waving the video camera. "I think that's all to see in this room. Moving onwards!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"This is The Kitchen Of Cooking And Baking And The Preparation Of Foodstuffs! And _that _is The Captain Of America, out of uniform and in his natural habitat scrambling eggs over the stove!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And this is The Incredibly Boring Monitor Room Of Monitoring Boring Stuff! It's pretty useless, honestly, usually the bad guys just find us rather than us finding them. They seem to have something out for the comfort of everybody in this mansion, because they keep doing things like breaking the air conditioning, and the heater, and frying the electricity, and breaking the windows and stuff like that."

"Speed, what are you doing _now?" _

"And _that, _Princess, is The Captain Of Being A Marvel! Or something like that! She specialized in flying around, blasting stuff and punching stuff. You'd probably like her."

"Who are you even talking to? And what are you doing with that camera?"

"We've seen everything there is to see here! Gottagetgoingbye!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is The Bedroom Of Speed That Is Only Used For Sleeping Every Other Thursday Or Otherwise Occasionally For Blowing Up If I Get Frustrated! It is extremely boring I'm just showing it to you because that there is the panda hat you gave me, yes I actually did keep it, but you know I can only wear it when nobody's looking, right? I _told_ you I have an image to maintain!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is The Training Room Of Almost-But-Not-Quite-Killing Each Other For Fun! And that there is a sparring match between The Fist Of Iron—_not_ to be confused with The Man Of Iron!—and The Man Of Power Who Usually Just Goes By 'Luke' Or 'Cage'! Alright they've stopped fighting and are glaring at us now so we're just going to get going, alright Princess?"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is One Of The Rooms Of Bathing! Just take a look at that bathtub, it's a freakin' swimming pool!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And now behold The Garden Of The Mansion Of Avengers! Tended by some anonymous gardeners and The Wolverine Of Liking To Rake Leaves. And I know you kind of have a crush on Wolvie and kind of hate too for that one time he pissed you off and you ended up punching him out the doors of a church and into the snow**, so I'm just going to stop talking about him now! Anyways, when all the leaves are raked into a huge pile it's kinda fun to jump into, you should come over during autumn sometime. Let's go!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is The Man Of The Proportionate Strength Of A Spider eating his lunch on the ceiling! It tends to happen. He likes eating upside-down."

"Oh, hi Speed! Who are you talking to? You still using that video camera? You know that you actually need to hold the camera _still, _right? That video you're taking is going to be all blurry. Have you ever thought of trying a tripod to help you hold the camera steady?"

"Is this video going to be blurry? Oops, sorry Princess. Hope it's still okay! Okay let's go!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is The Scarlet Mom! HiWanda,sayhitoMol!"

"Say hi to who? Who is 'Mol'?"

"Gottagosorrythere'sstillstufftoseebyecatchyoulater!"

_FWOOOSH!_

"And _this _is The Bedroom Full Of Geeky-ness And All Things Fanboy! I think you can guess that it belongs to my twi—oy!"

Billy stood in the doorway, keeping Tommy frozen with his magic and glaring. "Okay, Tommy. You are going to tell me _why _you are in my room, and _why _it is that you're running around the mansion and talking to yourself as much as Deadpool does."

"I'm making a video tour of Avengers Mansion!" Tommy said, huffing and trying to break free of the blue glow around him but failing, and then trying to vibrate out but then stopping when he realized that he was carrying the camera and if he vibrated too much he'd blow it up, and somebody would be incredibly disappointed.

"Why?" Billy asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

"Princess Powerful wanted to see Avengers Mansion," Tommy explained. "You remember Princess Powerful, right? Aka Molly Hayes? Young member of from the Runaways? Wears the best hats out of anybody in any superhero team? Anyways, yeah, she wants to see the inside of Avengers Mansion, but even if the Avengers decided they were cool with that, the rest of the Runaways aren't cool with me running Molly over here from L.A.. It's like they don't trust me or something. So instead I'm video-taping a tour, and then I'm going to send it to her." Tommy's eyes flicked to the camera in his hand that he couldn't move, then over at his brother. "You know I'm still recording, right? I kind of can't hit 'pause' or anything when I'm stuck immobile like this, bro."

"And you're showing Molly my bedroom _why?" _Billy raised his dark eyebrows.

"Because it's a room in Avengers Mansion," Tommy said, smiling sheepishly, tone almost a question.

Billy glared at him for another moment before sighing and muttering something under his breath, unfreezing the speedster. "Out. Now."

"Alright, alright!" Tommy said, rolling his eyes as he pointed the camera at the annoyed witch. "And that is why Billy is also known Mister Sourpuss."

Billy's eyes started glowing blue. _"Out!"_

"OkayokayI'mgoing!" Tommy dashed out of the room. "I hope you appreciate this, Princess!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *<em>SECRET INVASION: RUNAWAYSYOUNG AVENGERS #1-3_**

**_**__RUNAWAYS (2005) #11-12_  
><strong>

**Oh, and Tommy was given the video camera by Billy at the end of my story _The Tommy Problem, _and he was running around taking pictures with it in my story _A Visit from Grandaddy Magneto _and Spiderman tried to give him some photography tips.  
><strong>

**This chapter was written for the prompts "Of" and "The". (That was my sister trying to stump me again. As you can see, it obviously didn't work. Again ;)) **

**I am eventually going to write something with Molly and Tommy. Because their friendship is just so damn cute :3**


	53. The Art of Learning

**The Art of Learning**

There was a horrible, atrocious, downright _painful_ sound coming from the common room of Avengers Mansion. It sounded like a cat was attacking an out-of-tune string instrument.  
>Which, as it turned out, wasn't that far from the truth.<p>

"What the hell is that awful fucking noise?!" Tommy demanded as he zipped into the room, only to find Billy sitting on a couch with a bright crimson strat electric guitar on his lap.

Tommy blinked at his brother several times, the movement too small and fast to be caught. "What the hell are you doing with a guitar, bro?"

Teddy, who was sitting next the mage, answered: "I found it collecting dust in the closet. It was hidden by a bunch of brooms."

"So, whose is it?" Tommy asked.

"Probably Stark's," Billy shrugged, plucking at the strings again and creating a noise that made the speedster cringe. "Almost everything is. Doesn't look like anybody's used it in a while, though."

"So, what, your boyfriend found a random guitar and you just randomly decided to try to learn how to play?" Tommy asked, raising an argent eyebrow skeptically, before shooting his hands up to cover his ears as his brother strummed the instrument again. "Damn it, Billy! Is that thing even fucking _tuned _correctly?!"

"I _tried _to tune it," Bill said defensively, glaring slightly.

"Hey, give him a break," Teddy said told the speedster chidingly as he put an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "Neither of us know how to play guitar. We're just trying to figure it out."

Billy pursed his lips thoughtfully as he plucked at the strings again, and the noise was so unpleasant it made Tommy almost want to start crying. Or perhaps run out of the room screaming.

But of course, the speedster did neither.

"Well, you are fucking _awful _at playing guitar," Tommy sneered at his brother. "I mean, _I _don't know how to play the guitar _either, _but I'm betting I could do better than _that! _And I could definitely figure out how to _tune _the damn thing!"

"Oh yeah?" Billy snorted, looking at his brother challengingly. "Prove it, then!"

"I will!" Tommy said determinedly, grabbing the guitar out of the mage's hands and throwing himself down on the other side of the couch, taking a moment to stroke his hands over the smooth body of the instrument before the fingers of his left hand flew up to the top of the neck and his right hand began plucking each string individually, closing his eyes as he adjusted the tuning pegs.

Both Teddy and Billy had to cover their ears from the chaotic, high-speed din.

A few minutes later, once he'd gotten all the strings tuned to their correct notes, his hands began skittering across the strings, making such a hellish racket that Billy shoved his face against his boyfriend's chest and Teddy grabbed a pillow to pull over his head.

"AGH! Stop!" Billy cried, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. "Are you kidding me, Tommy? This is so much worse than what I was..."

And then he trailed off, because as he'd been speaking the sound changed, and now it actually sounded like a song. And it sounded _good, _albeit crazy fast and complicated.

Slowly Billy sat up, and Teddy pulled the pillow from his head, and they both looked at the speedster, who was smirking slightly as he played.

"What song is that?" Billy inquired.

"'Through The Fire And Flames' by Dragonforce," Tommy answered, closing his eyes as his fingers danced across the strings at a ridiculous pace. "Apparently one of the hardest guitar riffs to play because of the diverse set of scales and the fast tempo. Of course, my superspeed ensures that that isn't a problem for me." He looked incredibly smug, but also like he was actually enjoying himself somewhat.

Billy frowned slightly at his brother and crinkled his brow. "But how did you—?"

"Shhh!" Tommy said, cutting him off, opening his eyes to watch his fingers skitter over the fretboard, an intense look of concentration on his face and the riff got impossibly faster. "I'm concentrating here! This is by memory and by ear."

Billy and Teddy could only watch, listen and marvel at the speedster's guitar playing.

* * *

><p>Tommy finished the song with a flourish, glancing up through his white side-bangs to smirk at them rather conceitedly, stroking the crimson instrument before setting it on the coffee table in front of them, getting up and stretching his arms above his head.<p>

"Tommy, that was _amazing,"_ Billy said.

The speedster smirked, arching his back as he stretched. "I know."

"And you've _never_ played a guitar before?" Billy asked him, expression disbelieving.

"Nope. Never really considered it." Tommy shrugged gracefully.

"Then how did you do that?!"

"And _what_ was that awful din before the song?" Teddy asked incredulously.

"That was me learning," Tommy said, walking back over the guitar and picking it up, disappearing, only to return a moment later with a shoulder strap attached to the instrument and slung across his chest. "I'm a speedster, which means I can do stuff faster. I fail faster, but I also succeed faster." He strummed at the guitar strings before turning his glance to his brother and brother's boyfriend with a grin. "Well, now that I've got the hang of this guitar, is there anything you'd like to hear? Provided it's not a stupid sappy love song, of course."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I got the idea for this from the comic <em>X-FACTOR (1986) #79, <em>where Pietro did a similar thing, except with the piano, after getting annoyed with Jamie Madrox playing "Chopsticks" over and over for hours and was giving him a hard time about it, and Jamie was defended by Guido who said that he bet Pietro couldn't do any better. Of course Pietro took the bet. And then he played Beethoven's "Moolight Sonata," by memory and by ear (he'd heard Black Bolt play it a few times when he was living with his wife Crystal and the Inhumans), after a period of 'learning' that was basically a hideous racket of keyboard smashing. **

**Used a guitar in this, because it was easier to imagine Billy and Tommy playing a guitar than playing a piano. And because Tommy playing the ridiculously fast-paced guitar riff in "Through The Fire And Flames" by Dragonforce was just too good to pass up. If you haven't heard that song, listen to it. It's ridiculous.  
><strong>


	54. Scars

**Scars**

Teddy loved Billy's scars.

Every raised ridge of skin, every dark blemish. Each one had a story, told part of the inspiring tale that was Billy Kaplan, Wiccan, a Young Avenger, a superhero.

But Teddy wasn't the only one who was slightly in awe of Billy's scars.

The buff blond was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, pulling the mage into his arms and kissing a dark line on Billy's left temple when Tommy nearly ran into them.

"Dudes!" Tommy complained, pulling to a halt just inches from the embracing couple, crossing his arms and glaring at them. "If you're gonna have a make-out session, don't do it in the doorway! Some people actually use doorways to go from one room to the next!"

"Sorry," Billy said, but he was grinning and didn't sound particularly apologetic, though he backed away from his boyfriend to allow room for his brother to enter the kitchen.

Tommy however had tilted his head, eyes on the skin of Billy's temple that Teddy had just tenderly kissed. Usually it wasn't visible because it was covered by the mage's dark side-bangs.

Reaching out, Tommy brushed his thumb over the scar, asking, "What was that from?"

"This?" Billy reached up his own hand to touch the marred skin. "That was from a piece of debris that hit me when we broke you out of Juvie and you blew up your cell."

Tommy stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning wryly. "Well, at least that's the only one that's my fault, right?"

"Pretty much," Billy said, grinning back. "These," he ran his fingers along the curved edge of both his ears, over three dark puncture wounds on each, "are from the devices that the warden of the Cube stuck in my ears to prevent me from hearing my own voice and casting spells." He loved showing off his scars. "And this one," he lifted his shirt to reveal a dark, diagonal slash across his side, "was from one of the alternate earths that an alternate Noh-Varr had turned into the capital of the new Kree Empire, and we were attacked by these Kree guards with bladed gauntlets." He started tugging down the waist of his pants to expose some skin low on his hip.

"Nuh-uh, I think I've seen enough!" Tommy said, waving his hands in front of his face, and Billy laughed slightly and pulled up the waist of his pants again.

"It's not really an inappropriate place, and it's an interesting scar!" Billy protested with a grin. "I got attacked by an alien symbiote in another of the alternate dimensions we visited, and it left a kind of chemical burn or something. Teddy loves kissing that one."

"I _really _don't need to hear that stuff," Tommy snorted, shaking his head, white hair swishing across his face, before he turned to the Kree-Skrull, expression somewhat impish and somewhat curious. "So," he said, raising an achromatic eyebrow at Teddy, "does Billy enjoy kissing all _your_ scars, too?"

"Well, not really, 'cause I don't scar," Teddy said, shifting slightly. "I mean, I _do _scar—it's just that due to my Skrull shapeshifting and healing ability they fade away completely in only a day or two."

Billy smirked. "So instead I just kiss everywhere that I can figure has been scarred at some point," he said, grinning at his brother mischievously.

"Let's just pretend I never asked!" Tommy declared, throwing up his hands and making a disgusted noise, spinning in a circle. "I _really_ don't need to know all the places you touch each other with your mouths!"

Rather than being embarrassed by this remark, Billy just looked smug and Teddy just laughed.

Tommy tilted his head as he regarded his brother, brow creasing slightly, before he asked, "But couldn't you use your magic to get rid of your scars, if you wanted?"

"I could," Billy said, "but why would I ever want to do that? All my scars are interesting stories, I like having the reminders. Would _you _get rid of your scars if _you _could?" He raised his dark eyebrows questioningly, apparently confident that his point was about to proven.

Tommy just barked out a rough laugh. "Scars? Me? Are you kidding? I _don't _scar." He grinned, a strange, dark light in his eyes. "Superspeed metabolism and healing. I heal so fast by body doesn't even have the _time _to scar. And I would never _want_ to be able to scar." He laughed, and it sounded jovial, his smile bright, but the humor didn't quite reach his green gaze. "I'd have to wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts all the time to avoid uncomfortable questions."

Before Teddy and Billy could even begin to process that statement, the speedster said, "'Scuse me!" and zipped past them into the kitchen, opening the fridge and declaring, "I have a date with a very attractive sandwich that I absolutely cannot keep waiting!" He started taking things out of the fridge. "What do you think, a BLT or a PBJ? Actually," items were moved around the shelves at superspeed, "we don't even seem to have peanut butter. There is some almond butter though. An ABJ, then? Aww, what the hell, why have one when you can have both, right? What type of jam, huh? Blackberry or strawberry or—lemon curd? Why the fuck do we have lemon curd? 'Curd' is an awful word, it feels repulsive, so it probably tastes repulsive too. What kind of cheese? There's pepper jack and cheddar and—damn, there's a _lot _of cheese in here! Who buys all this cheese?! And I'm not seeing any bacon. And there's lots of green stuff, but it's not looking like lettuce. Also, we have sunbutter? An SBJ? ABJ or SBJ? Oh hey there's some sauerkraut in here. Isn't that pickled cabbage or something? Damn, that's a _huge _fucking jar of sauerkraut! Who likes sauerkraut that much?!"

Teddy and Billy could only blink as they tried to make sense of the speedster's fast rambling.

"I like sauerkraut," Teddy managed, latching onto the last word he'd been able to recognize.

"Saurkraut is evil!" Billy contradicted, whirling on his boyfriend indignantly and crossing his arms. "When I was seven I once opened the refrigerator at my house, and a huge jar of sauerkraut fell onto my toe and it really hurt. I got a blood blister and had a huge purple blotch on my nail for months!"

Teddy smiled. "Which toe?" he asked.

"That one," Billy said, pointing to the big toe of his right foot.

Teddy bent down and picked up the mage's bare foot, kissing the poor toe that had been squashed by an evil jar of sauerkraut many ears earlier. Then he made a face. "You really need to wash your feet, Bee," Teddy said, standing and making an exaggerated show of wiping his lips, before smiling impishly. "Why don't you come take a shower with me?"

Tommy, who by now had finished making both of his sandwiches and was holding one in each hand, made a revolted noise, waving a sandwich at them and announcing, "You two are absolutely _disgusting, _you know that right?!"

A piece of bacon fell out of one of the sandwiches, and he quickly stuffed a sandwich into his mouth and used the subsequently empty hand to snatch the piece of bacon from midair. "Sheroushly," he said through a mouthful of ABJ, as he stuffed the bacon back into the other sandwich, "Ah 'inda eashin' righ' 'ow, ah rea'a do' wa'a hrow' u'."

Teddy just stared at the speedster. _"What _did you say?" he asked, laughing and shaking his head.

"He said: 'Seriously, I'm kinda eating right now, I really don't wanna throw up,'" Billy answered easily.

Now Teddy turned to stare at his boyfriend. "How could you understand that?!" he inquired in disbelief and a little bit of awe.

"Well," Billy said, shrugging and grinning, "we _are _spiritual twins."

"You, Billy Kaplan, are amazing," Teddy grinned, leaning in to kiss the mage on the neck, lips pressing against a psuedo-vampire bite _(that _had been a strange dimension).

Tommy made a gagging noise.

Casting a quick glance at his brother and smirking, Billy then turned fully to his boyfriend, wrapping his fingers in the collar of the alien's shirt. "So, Tee," he murmured, just loud enough that he could be sure Tommy would hear, "why don't you and I take that shower you were suggesting, and I can let you kiss that scar on my a—"

Tommy made an undignified noise and sped out of the room with his sandwiches.


	55. Shampoo

**Shampoo**

Billy was taking a shower (not with his boyfriend, this time), humming to himself as he lathered his orange citrus shampoo into his hair.

"Hey bro! Can I borrow your shampoo?"

Startled, Billy stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain to see Tommy standing there expectantly. His hair was wet and dripping and he was completely naked, like he'd literally just run out his own shower and into the bathroom that Billy was occupying.

Billy glanced accusingly at the door, but it was still locked, just like he remembered. So Tommy had just vibrated himself on through.

"Tommy!" Billy exclaimed. "What are you doing in here?! And why are you naked? Did you seriously just run across the mansion without any clothes on?"

"Hey, it's not like anybody could see me," Tommy snorted. "I move too fast."

"I see you," Billy pointed out, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Yeah, but you're my twin," Tommy said, smirking. "Same body, right?" He spread his hands and turning in a few quick circles. "And 'sides, it's not like I've got anything to be ashamed of!"

Billy groaned and rolled his eyes, pulling his head back behind the shower curtain, ducking down slightly to let the hot water run over his face. "So Tommy," he said, straightening and shaking his head to get the water out of his eyes, _"why _are you standing naked in my bathroom again?"

"Because I ran out of shampoo, and you're the only one who has the orange citrus stuff I like. So I'm borrowing some."

The voice was right behind him, and Billy whirled around to see that Tommy had gotten tired of waiting and had simply gotten into the shower with him, and was now emptying some of said orange citrus shampoo into his hand, lathering it in his argent hair.

"_Tommy!"_ Billy exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. "You can't just barge into people's showers!"

Tommy scoffed. "Dude, I do _not _barge into people's showers! I'm not a pervert or a creep! I only barge into _your _shower, because you're my fucking soul twin so it's not weird, and because you have the shampoo that I like."

Pushing his brother aside, Tommy claimed sole occupancy of the water streaming down from the showerhead, washing the shampoo out of his hair.

"Oh, and I need your conditioner too." He grabbed Billy's conditioner. "Thanks, bro!"

Billy was still crossing his arms and glaring at the speedster, annoyed at the intrusion, but there wasn't exactly much he could about it. But, hey, at least Tommy had fully accepted the fact that they were twins, enough so that they could be nude around each other without any awkwardness. It was kinda nice, actually, to have that level of trust and familiarity.

If this wasn't an '_oh, we are __**definitely **__twins,' _moment, then Billy didn't know _what _was.

"So," Tommy said, sending his brother a smirk as he rubbed the orange citrus conditioner in his hair, "is that," he gestured at the mage's backside, "the scar you were talking about Teddy liking to kiss the other day? The one that makes it look like you sat on a porcupine?"

Billy raised a dark eyebrow. "I thought that kind of thing made you uncomfortable."

"It makes me feel sick," Tommy corrected, "when I'm _eating. _But otherwise I'm totally cool." He grinned and patted his brother on the shoulder. "I'm your twin! You can always tell me about your adventures!" He smirked. "Even the ones that take place between the covers," he added, and while Billy just stared at him, somewhat disbelieving and flabbergasted, Tommy laughed and turned back to the stream of water and washed the conditioner out of his hair. "Just not while I'm eating!"

"I don't understand you," Billy said finally, shaking his head and stepping forward, forcing Tommy to share the hot water.

Tommy just laughed. "Thanks for the shampoo and conditioner, bro!" he said, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel, quickly drying himself off.

"So what are you going to do now?" Billy asked, sticking his head out of the curtain to raise his eyebrows at his brother. "Run all the way back to your room naked?"

"I ran here naked," Tommy said with a shrug and a smirk, tossing the towel aside onto the floor. "Nobody could possibly see me. Except for Pietro, but he's not here. I'm practically invisible when I run!"

Then Tommy saluted his twin, grinned, and vibrated out the door.

Billy retreated back into the shower, shaking his head.

His brother was _crazy. _

* * *

><p>Pietro was walking up a flight of stairs in the Avengers Mansion, arm-in-arm with his sister, who had insisted he come visit, when he saw Tommy run by, not wearing a single article of clothing.<p>

"_OhhiUnclePete! Funnyyoushouldturnupnow! Don'tyoudaretellanybodythatyousawthis!"_

Pietro paused in his steps and raised an eyebrow as the naked teenager disappeared from sight.

"What is it?" Wanda asked him, scanning his mystified expression, wondering why he'd stopped.

"One of your sons," was all Pietro said, giving his head a hyper-fast shake and clearing the confusion from his features.

"What about one of my sons?" Wanda insisted as they started ascending the steps again. "What did one of them do?"

"He was..." Pietro hesitated while he tried to come up with the right word, pausing long enough that they cleared the flight of stairs onto the third-floor landing, beginning to stroll down the hall before he finally settled rather lamely on: "Tommy."

"One of my sons was Tommy?" Wanda asked in amusement, raising a dark eyebrow at her twin brother.

Pietro met her gaze. "Tommy was being decidedly _Tommy." _

"Oh, well then," Wanda laughed, "that's a good thing, then. I would worry if Tommy _wasn't _being decidedly Tommy."

The corner of Pietro's lips quirked. "Indeed."


	56. All Games and No School

**AN: A nice long one for you. This takes place BEFORE the rest of the chapters in this compilation. This is post-_THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE _after Steve invited them to the mansion and told them that they were and always would be Avengers, but it is PRE-_YOUNG AVENGERS (2013). _**

**The recommended soundtrack for this chapter is the song "Robot High School" by My Robot Friend. On repeat. XD  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>All Games (and Saving the World) and <strong>**_No School_**

"What are you kids doing here?"

Tommy, Teddy, and Billy looked up from where they were in the Avengers Mansion foyer sitting around a table and playing a card game of BS, to see Dr. Hank McCoy standing there in all his huge, blue fuzziness.

"We're Avengers," Billy answered, taking a card from his hand and tossing it onto the pile in the middle of the table. "We kind of live here sometimes now. One Jack." The deck in his hands was rather large, and he appear too happy with how the game was going, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, lips pursed as he examined his hand of cards, browsing through them to see if he had any aces for his next turn.

"The question _is,"_ Tommy said, raising a white eyebrow at the furry blue genius, "what are _you _doing here, Mr. McCoy? _You _are not an Avenger."

"He used to be," Billy said immediately. "He was an Avenger when—"

"Cut the creepy fanboy crap, bro. I asked Mr. Blue and Fuzzy here a question." The speedster was leaning back in his chair, one of his feet placed on the edge of the table and tilting his chair back so that the front legs were lifted several inches off the floor. His other foot was hanging down and swinging very quickly back and forth in the air, like a hyper, impatient young child. His left arm was slung over the back of his chair, and in his right hand he held a hand of cards, which he was waving in front of his face like a fan, so fast he was creating a fair amount of breeze that was whipping his niveous hair around.

"Two Queens," Teddy said, placing a couple cards down in the center of the table. "And 'once an Avenger, always an Avenger,' remember? Hank is allowed to visit."

"BS," Tommy snorted.

Teddy raised a blond eyebrow, which disappeared behind his long, thick bangs that were just short of needing a desperate haircut. He had this way of sitting with an almost regally straight posture that nevertheless managed to look relaxed and amiable rather than snooty and stuck-up. His left arm was resting on the table, fingertips tapping the wood surface in a slow and casual beat, while he held his cards with his right hand, though he wasn't looking at them currently, his attention directed at the speedster. "Oh?" he asked, lips tugging upwards in amusement. "And which of my statements are you calling BS on?"

"Both," Tommy said curtly. "That 'once an Avenger, always an Avenger' thing is stupid. And you don't have two Queens."

Sighing, Teddy picked up the entirety of the pile of cards in the center of the table. "We still think you're cheating," he told the speedster.

"We do," Billy agreed, nodding. "But," he flashed a smirk at his boyfriend, who now had a larger hands of cards than he did, "I don't really mind right now. Just as long as my better half is losing more than I am."

"Wait, aren't _I _your better half, being your twin and all?" Tommy protested, narrowing his eyes at his brother, still fanning himself with his rather small hand of cards.

"No, you're my worse half," Billy shot back.

"Wait! If Teddy's your better half, and I'm your worse half, and two halves make a whole, then what the hell are you left with?"

"_My _better half," Teddy said, grinning and sharing an adoring look with Billy.

Tommy snorted. "If that's the case, then the other half of him is _my _worse half."

"And then I'm whole!" Billy grinned cheesily.

Tommy groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Still fanning himself. "You two are going to give me cavities, seriously. Two Kings, by the way. I took my turn like five minutes ago, but you guys didn't notice. It's Billy's turn now!"

"BS!" Billy humphed. "You have, what, like, five cards left? There's no way you had two Kings!"

Tommy waved a hand at the three cards in the middle of the table. "Don't believe me? Fine. Check for yourself."

Grabbing the cards, Billy flipped them over, ready to pronounce his brother a liar—"Oh. You really _did _have two Kings."

"Yu_p,"_ Tommy said, popping the 'p' and tilting his head up to smirk at the mage. "And now both of them are yours. Long live the Kings of Spades and the King of Clubs. Have you ever thought about how spades and clubs are both weapons you can kill someone with?"

"You are disturbed," Billy told him.

"No I'm not. I'm an Avenger. Although," Tommy hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to Doctor McCoy, who had just been standing there and watching this exchange somewhat incredulously, sure that somehow they had all managed to forget about his presence, "the two probably go hand-in-hand, right, _Doctor?" _

Hank blinked.

"What do you want, man?" Tommy continued, watching as Billy put in "Three aces" and Teddy called "BS" on him, causing the mage to sigh and take the cards back into his hand. "You can't join our game, we're too far in," the speedster told the furry blue mutant. "I'm about to win. And also, you're above the age limit. Crazy hormonal teenagers only."

"Don't mind Tommy," Teddy said to Hank, smiling apologetically. "He doesn't like doctors." The alien turned his attention back to the game, setting a couple cards down on the pile and announcing, "Two twos."

"One three," Tommy said, tossing a card from his hand into the pile carelessly.

Billy narrowed his eyes at the speedster.

Tommy gave him a sharp, toothy grin. "Don't believe me? Go ahead and check."

The mage decided not to call BS on him, instead just placing a card on the pile, saying, "One four."

"BS," Teddy called immediately.

"Dammit," Billy grumbled, taking the pile from the center of the table and glaring at his boyfriend, who just gave him a simper.

"I have all four fours," Teddy explained, gesturing at his huge hand of cards.

Billy's eyes widened as he examined the new cards he'd just gotten, ignoring Teddy's comment and instead turning to his brother, saying accusingly, "Tommy! You didn't have a three!"

"Course not," Tommy snorted, tossing his arm over his face, wrist bent so that his meager hand of cards lay against his neck. "This is a _lying _game. It's not my fault that you are an awful liar and that Teddy's not even trying." Tommy's arm scooted up over his forehead so he could pin Teddy with his gaze, his hand of cards sliding up to cover his left ear. "I mean, you're a shapeshifter and a fantastic mimic, you really should be better at hiding your tells!"

"Oh?" Teddy said, grinning and placing some cards in the center of the table. "Alright then: three fives. Am I lying?"

Tommy's eyes flicked over Teddy and Billy's faces, before he smirked and scoffed, "Of course you're not lying. I can tell from Billy's expression as he looked over his cards that he only has one five, and I don't have any fives, and there's currently no other cards in the center of the table." At their astonished expressions he smirked, switching his feet and moving his deck of cards around against the back of his head and reaching his other arm up as well so that both his hands were behind his head. "Come on, this is a game of deduction, too!"

"Stop preening, Tommy," Billy said, rolling his coffee eyes. "It's your turn."

"Alright," Tommy said, taking one hand from behind his head and dropping a card on the pile. "One six."

Billy and Teddy glanced at their cards, then at each other, then at Tommy.

Teddy gave a shrug.

After a moment of scrunching his lips to the side and thinking, Billy declared, "Oh, whatever." He tossed a couple cards onto the pile. "Two sevens."

Grinning, Tommy removed both hands from behind his head to show that they were empty. "I win," he said smugly.

"Wait a minute!" Billy said, slapping his hand of cards down on the table and glaring at his brother. "I know you had at least two cards still in your hand, and you only put one in!"

Tommy's smirk was infuriating. "This is also a game about _cheating," _he said, taking his foot from the edge of the table and letting his chair fall back onto all fours, leaping to his feet and collecting all the cards from the table and removing those in Teddy's hand, shuffling them at superspeed and sticking them back in the card box.

Teddy just laughed. "Good game, Tommy," he said, standing up and stretching, before patting the speedster on the shoulder with a grin.

"Next time we're playing crazy eights," Billy grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back in his chair.

"No way, I don't play games of chance and luck," Tommy said, tossing the box onto the table with a small _thmp. _"I only play games of skill. My luck is awful, but my skill is great. And you've got to pick your battles, you know? Speaking of," he whirled on Henry McCoy, who was _still _standing there staring at them, rather than leaving and going off to do whatever it was he'd come to the mansion to do, or to see whoever it was he'd come to the mansion to see—he was probably there to see Tony or Bruce or someone; those genius types and their Genius Only Clubs, Tommy shook his head.

Well, seeing as Tommy _was _the go-to person for directions...

He did a quick sweep of the mansion, back in a second to say, "Well, Doctor Beast, Tony is his lab in the basement and Bruce is currently not here, which really should have been obvious because Doctor Banner doesn't like me much, he always lets his huge green alter ego deal with me instead, and do you see any Hulks going 'Smash!' around here? No, I thought not. Tony's in the basement, no shoo." He made a shooing motion at the fluffy blue man with the face that currently resembled a lion—it would probably change soon, though, Hank was always undergoing new mutations, it was rather absurd.

"It's Tuesday," Henry McCoy stated.

"Congratulations," Tommy said sarcastically, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "You know what day it is. Sorry, but don't get a prize for giving that gem of information."

To his credit, Hank seemed completely unruffled by the white-haired teen's snark—but then, he _did _teach at a school _full_ of teenage mutants, so he was probably quite used to bad attitudes by now. (Seriously, Tommy could _never_ be worse than Quentin Quire.)

"Am I correct in my recollection that you boys are sixteen years of age?" Henry inquired.

"What does it matter?" Tommy shot at him. Teddy came over and placed a hand on the speedster's arm.

"Yeah, we're sixteen," Billy answered, looking at the adult somewhat warily, though with nowhere near so much hostility as his twin. "And if you're going to tell us that we're too young to be doing this, you can stop that though right now, because Captain America made us Avengers, and we've saved the world several times now. And also, Spiderman started super-heroing at his age, and look at him now!" Billy had come over to stand next to his brother and his boyfriend, the three of them making a front that was intimidating enough that supervillains, if they had been there, would have been running away.

Or at least, they _should _have been running away, but they probably would have just laughed and attacked, and then had their asses handed to them by three kids who looked like they could be in a teenage boy band.

Billy didn't have anything against Hank, or doctors—in fact, he quite respected Beast. But Tommy was acting more than a bit agitated and angry, and that was enough to set Billy on edge as well. And Teddy of course was very perceptive of people's moods, especially those of his boyfriend and his boyfriend's twin, so he was likewise now regarding the large, blue, fur-covered man with a guarded wariness.

"Peter still went to high school," Hank pointed out, not seeming intimidated in the least by this chilly reception. "It's a school day, so why are you three not in school? Just because you're superheroes doesn't mean you get to stop learning, or that you should give up on graduating from high school, or, if you decide to, attending college."

Before Teddy and Billy could finish processing this statement, Tommy blew up. (Although thankfully he didn't _literally _cause anything to explode using his hyperkinetic vibrations, but his angry outburst was almost as bad.)

"School?!" Tommy blurted, yanking himself out of Teddy's grip and storming over to Dr. McCoy, jabbing a finger into his muscled, furry blue chest. "You want us to go to _school?!" _Sparks were practically leaping from the speedster's lurid green eyes. A furious sneer twisted his features. "Look, you can stuff that idea back up your ass _right this second _because it's _not happening!" _

Tommy turned sharply away from Hank and started pacing at a superhuman speed back and forth across the room, gesticulating wildly with his hands, his speech tight and strained with the obvious effort he was putting into slowing his heated words down enough that they were comprehensible to snails.

"_First_ of all," he said, "I _blew up my school _and got locked up in jail for it. You _really _don't want _me _sitting through hours of classes. There _will_ be casualties."

Whirling on his heel he fixed the teacher with a glare that could, if he stared at one spot for long enough, probably melt holes in metal and cause the building to catch on fire. Luckily for everyone his eyes were flicking all over the place as he kept pacing, ranting and gesturing, movements fast and jerky like a malfunctioning robot.

"_Secondly,_ we'd all _fail_ with huge, fucking massive _F's_ because the amount of homework high schools give is _ridiculous _and there's no way we'd have enough time to do that while also being _kickass superheroes_—and of course we'd be _missing_ more classes than we _attended_ because we're fucking _Avengers _and we have to save the world every other _month_ and we have to protect all the damn idiotic _ingrates_ that comprise the population of this _constantly_ fucked-up and under-siege-from-either-the-inside-or-the-outside planet."

Tommy waved a hand through the air so fast it created a little sonic boom, a loud _CRACK! _that made everybody else jump, startled.

"_Thirdly," _Tommy continued on without pause, a disparaging snarl further twisting his fury-darkened features, "what fucking _good_ would getting a high school education do for us?! All they teach is useless _junk_ that most normal people don't even use in their lives _anyway, _and only cram for tests and then promptly forget everything afterwards. And anything high school teaches that _is _useful for _nor_mal people living their _normal_ lives would _not_ be any kind of help to us with _our _lives because we'll _never _live a life where we have some career like being a _lawyer_ or an _artist_ or what-fucking-_ever._ We'll _never need_ to have a civilian job, and even if we _wanted _to it's not like it would work out at all because superheroing would _always _come first, and there's _always _superheroing to do."

He'd been talking to the room at large, but now turned on his heel to spit his words directly at Hank, eyes flashing.

"And we're not fucking _kids, _doctor," he sneered. "We're Avengers. We're _soldiers." _His lean chest heaved with angry breaths and he rolled his shoulders back, tilting his chin up, gaze cool but words brimming with a n intransigent fervor. "And we are going to live our lives _fighting,_ and we are going to _die_ fighting, and we _know _and _accept _this. We don't _want _to be 'protected' in your goddamn mutant school for mutant kids—_dammit,"_ he stomped his foot, creating another startling _CRACK! _and turning to throw his arms up in the air indignantly, "I already _told_ Wolverine all this!"

He whirled back on Hank, green eyes catching the sunlight streaming in through the window with a lethal glint.

"We've already been on the front lines too many times," Tommy said, lowering his voice almost to a whisper—but it was a furious, terrifying whisper, the kind that seemed so much louder and and more corrosive than shouting and made everyone listening wish the volume would go back up and drown some of that venom out. "You can't fucking take us out and stick us in training. You can't make us live a sheltered life we missed because we _don't fucking need it_."

Tommy smiled without a single trace of humor, the rage shooting through his veins and painting a dark backdrop behind his eyes and making his entire body quiver with the vehement energy of it, his hands clenched so hard at his sides that his knuckles were as achromatic as his hair.

"I've been locked in fucking _prison, _doctor," he hissed, tone still chillingly sober and oh-so-deadly-soft in volume even if his voice seemed to rasp a little bit. "And I've _been_ to high school. It's _almost_ like prison. And I can _tell _you what they teach you in high school—they teach you to memorize the rules and learn to behave, to not think for yourself, they teach you to live like you're under sedation—_fuck,_ they teach you to live like you're already fucking _dead!" _

That last word was shouted, but that wasn't as relieving as it probably should have been, and, where they were standing near the wall, Teddy and Billy's eyes remind blown wide, blue and brown saucers in their faces as they tracked the speedster's movements back and forth across the room.

As for Hank, it was somewhat difficult to read his expression under all that long blue fur.

"And okay, yeah," Tommy admitted, voice adopting a much more conversational volume and a much more facetious tone as he waved a hand flippantly, "I know your school for mutant youngsters or whatever isn't like that, but it's _still_ a school, and it's _still_ something I graduated goddamn _ages _ago."

Tommy rolled his green eyes as he continued pacing and gesticulating.

"I've lived on the streets and fended for myself—you can't _make _me depend on anybody. And I may not be a goddamn _genius_, but I've got _street-smarts._ I know how to live and I know how to survive and I know how to fight and I know how to deal with hostility for being different—try living with white hair from birth sometime, and then maybe toss some ADHD in there—all the stuff you teach at your school—because what you do, right, besides teach them useless math and writing and reading comprehension skills and stupid history that they're never going to need to know, is teach them how to _live_ and _survive_ in a world that _hates_ and _fears_ them, right?"

He turned back to Henry McCoy, raising his niveous eyebrows and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I already fucking _know _all that," he bit out. "I got a goddamn _A+_ in that subject. Even if I completely _failed_ every other subject in school, it doesn't matter—"

Pausing for half a second, he pursed his lips thoughtfully, before amending, "Okay, actually, I didn't fail _every _subject in school. I aced Geography, Drama—and okay, that class was actually kind of enjoyable, even if we _did_ have to do some goddamn oldy-language _Shakespeare_—and all my math classes—I was in advanced placement in math, and I was actually the best in my Physics class—and _alright_, I'll give you that _physics _is a useful subject, but I've already learned the basics, and if I need to know anything else I can just borrow one of Tony's books, he's got _tons_ of them lying around both the mansion and the tower."

He waved a hand dismissively.

"But I _did _completely fail English—it's not my fault my teachers could never read my handwriting though, _although,_ yeah, _okay_, even if they _could _read my handwriting I would _still_ have completely failed, because stringing words together coherently? Not really my strong point—and I'll be the first to admit it, because I'm fast enough to be the first at _anything—_especially since _writing_ you have to do things differently than speaking, anyway, and who even _cares _about stupid things like similes and alliteration and second-person narration and not using run-on sentences and _whatever_ fucking else."

He had started pacing again, but his movements seemed less agitated, and his tone less that of angry ranting and more just stating things and rambling uncaringly.

"And I failed History—I didn't do any of the homework and then did so well on the tests that they thought I cheated—and I—_actually_, I didn't fail P.E, I was _kind of_ the star of the track team—everybody _hated_ me for being so damn awesome and making them eat my _dust_—but I failed like _everything_ else—can't even recall all the classes I took, I think I slept through most of them—they were all so goddamn _boring_, and the classes were actually pretty safe places to sleep—"

His mind finally seemed to catch up with his hundred-miles-a-minute mouth, and Tommy abruptly cut himself off with: "But _really_ my point is that school and I do _not _agree or cooperate peacefully with each other. At _all." _He grew enraged again so quickly it was jarring, his expression that had cleared up darkening once more, and once again he whirled on Henry McCoy, snarling a furious, "So I'm not _ever_ going to fucking school _ever _again and you _can't _make me."

Then, _still _not allowing Hank—or Billy or Teddy—so much as a chance to even _begin _to respond, Tommy started ranting and wearing a track into the floor again.

"Also, do you even _know _how much drug and alcohol abuse there is on high school campuses?" he asked—apparently rhetorically, because he still didn't give anybody the time to answer. "Kids go to classes high and they drive around drunk, and you'd never fucking _believe _the shit that goes down at school dances—"

At this point he caught sight of Hank exchanging glances with Billy and Teddy, the blue mutant wearing an expression that the speedster read as: _"This kid is absolute _nuts _can't you do something about it? Surely you see my point of view that all three of you need an education?" _

"Hey, don't look at my brother and his sickeningly adoring boyfriend like that!" Tommy snapped, speeding in front of Billy and Teddy and crossing his arms, glaring Dr. McCoy down. "_They _can't talk me down! _And _they're not going to high school, _or_ your mutant school, _either!" _His stance was defensive and hostile. "I mean, most of what I said doesn't apply to them, true—they were probably straight A students, exceptIbetBillyflunkedmath,he'stoogoddamnillogical—it'sallthemagicwishing, I tell you—but _they _don't need to sit in a classroom for hours out of the day _either, _and I'll have you know that they're both fucking _awesome _superheroes, and they _don't _need your kiddie training!"

Tommy's eyes were shooting sparks like a welding torch.

"We're big boys, _doctor." _His sneer was feral. "We're fucking _superheroes. _And none of us need to be _tested." _

His chest was heaving harder than it did after he ran around the world, his entire appearance and bearing carrying a wild edge to it—but in a second or two of stunned silence he managed to unclench his fists, slow his breaths and stand up straight, relaxing his shoulders and rolling his neck before fixing Hank with a frigid stare and saying, "So you _never bring up us taking school again, _or I will personally light all that flammable fur of yours on fire."

Apparently McCoy looked rather amusedly dubious about the threat, because Tommy snapped, "Don't look at me like that! I _would _do it! I got locked up for arson once, you know!" He crossed his arms and lowered his chin. "And I know where Tony keeps the flamethrowers. He doesn't know that I know, but I do."

Henry didn't look anywhere near threatened enough, so Tommy added spitefully, with a smirk: "I _also_ know that Bruce Banner is currently meditating in his Hulk-proof room in one of the deeper basements of Avengers Tower, and I would be _perfectly _willing to drop you by. I'm _sure _he'd _love _you to visit him and interrupt him in the middle of his peaceful meditating."

"Well," Hank said, after only a few moments, which had nevertheless been enough to be sure that the speedster wasn't going to start ranting again, "you have certainly made your opinion on the subject more than clear. I will not insist that any of you attend school, but, if any of you want to, just know that there is a place for you at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning."

Then the furry blue man exited the room, probably to go find Tony, who had probably gotten completely sucked into a project and forgotten that the lion-esque genius was coming.

All three of the teens watched McCoy leave—Tommy with still-scalding anger, Billy with disbelief, and Teddy with a bit of respect (standing in the focus of Speed's anger could _not _have been fun).

"Wow, Tommy," Billy managed, once the doctor was gone, looking at his brother with a muddled medley of emotions. "That was..."

"You're _welcome _for saving both of you from imprisonment and torture," Tommy said sardonically, turning on his heel and striding towards the front door of the mansion. "Feel free to thank me any time. Let it be known that I prefer to be thanked with minimum words and mushiness and maximum coffee shop gift cards."

He opened the door and slammed it loudly behind him, hitting the pavement running.

Billy just stared after his brother.

"So, Tommy took Drama in high school?" Teddy asked after several moments. "That explains a lot..."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know that Billy and Teddy were going to high school when the Young Avengers first formed, but I haven't seen any evidence of them attending school since v.1, even though Billy is seventeen in v.2 (and Teddy had his birthday during that volume - I'm guessing he turned 19 'cause I'm assuming he's like a year older than Billy but I don't really know), so technically Billy's still high school age but my Teddy is like college age now. But there was no worry about them missing school while they were chasing the Patri-not across dimension and hiding from Mother, so it doesn't seem like they are attending school any longer. <strong>

**Which makes sense to me. They're Avengers, and it didn't seem like they had any friends outside of the Young Avengers (and we all know that Billy was bullied by his peers), and no ambitions to be anything _but _Avengers, so there really was no reason for them to stay in school. **

**(Like, it's never been as important to their characters as it was for Peter Parker - as far as I can tell, Peter stayed in school because of all his friends there and because he wanted to become a scientist - he also had a secret identity, which Billy and Teddy don't really have any more). **

**And of course Tommy is never going back to school. And I can't see any of them at the Jean Grey School, I just can't.  
><strong>

**But I figured _somebody _would probably have _tried, _at one point, to get them to attend school. Hank McCoy got the task, because he's a teacher at the Jean Grey School and he seems like someone who would care about their education. I might have been kind of mean to him - I don't like him much _(hethreatenedtokillmybelovedNoh-VarrandthenexiledhimfromEarth! -_-). _But I imagine Tommy has a negative connotation with the word 'doctor' and anyone holding that title, so it kind of worked. **

**And just to let it be known, the opinions and/or experiences of the characters I write are not necessarily the opinions and/or experiences of myself.  
><strong>


	57. Homework

**AN: There has been recent evidence in the comic ****_ORIGINAL SINS _****that Billy at least is getting some kind of education, because he mentioned that he was studying in a text message to Teddy. But I'm largely ignoring everything after ****_YOUNG AVENGERS (2013) _****and this is my own AU universe so, you know. But Teddy and Billy never really got a chance to give their opinions on the matter on schooling in last chapter, since Tommy dominated everything, drama queen that he is. **

**So here's Billy's opinion. This takes place sometime not too long after the previous chapter. ****_  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Homework<span>**

Billy was sitting at a table in the main room, the eraser end of a pencil pressed lightly against his lips as he read a large textbook, papers and various other books scattered the table surface around him.

"_Dude!" _Tommy exclaimed as he ran in on the scene, looking at Billy in indignant horror. "Are you actually doing fucking _homework?! Areyouinschoolwhatthefuckisthis?!" _

"I'm not in school," Billy said, glancing up at his brother and giving him a rather flat look, the end of the pencil slipping from his lips to be merely held in the air below his chin. "Not really—it's kind of more like home-schooling, I guess?"

Tommy was narrowing his eyes at the mage it was partly a glare and partly some kind of combination of shock and disbelief. _"Whatnow?"_

"It's not even a GED or anything," Billy explained, rolling his eyes, "it's just, like, education, tutored by the Avengers. Wolverine is helping me with history, Beast helps me with math and Peter likes to help me with science, especially Chemistry, and everybody takes turns suggesting books for me to read. It's Jessica Jones who assigns the essays and stuff, though."

"You..." Tommy said, looking like his mind was racing a few hundred miles a second and he couldn't even begin to form his thoughts into words.

"And Captain America, aside from the sparring lessons—you know about those, you attend them—he also gives me some art lessons, sometimes," Billy said with a shrug, smiling slightly. "It's actually rather fun."

"...School...?" Tommy managed, his entire body moving even while he wasn't going anywhere.

"I told you, it's not _school," _Billy gave an exasperated roll of his eyes, "but I mean, _yeah, _I'm getting an _education. _Because, you know," he looked somewhat contemptuously at his twin brother, "_some _of us actually want to be, like, _part _of society rather than just _saving _it, and might like actually want a non-superheroing job that's not _factory work." _

Tommy gaped at him for about a second before zooming off with a furious-sounding _FWOOSH. _

Billy just shook his head and went back to doing his homework.


	58. Act Like You Mean It

**Act Like You Mean It**

"_Ugh. _Tommy, I _hate _you, you know that right?!" Billy growled irritably, leaning forward to bang his head lightly against the table.

"If you really hate me then you should at least act like you mean it," Tommy snorted, leaning across the table to take all of Billy's poker chips, smirking hugely.

"..." Billy sat up and glowered at his brother from behind his black sidebangs. "I _do _mean it!" When Tommy raised a dubious eyebrow, Billy added, "At least, at the _moment!" _

The speedster just snickered and shook his head. "You are a _terrible _liar, bro. You really shouldn't suggest that we play poker."

"I didn't suggest it!" Billy protested. He pointed an accusing finger at Teddy, who was wearing the most unreadable poker face ever, a pile of poker chips in front of him to rival Tommy's. "It was _his!" _

Glancing at the shapeshifter, Tommy snickered again. It was practically impossible _not _too, seeing as Teddy had shapeshifted his face into that of the Black Widow, while the rest of him was still Teddy, including the hair and everything. But his face was that of Natasha Romanov, who had the straightest straight face probably in the world, at least among the Avengers—Tony's Iron Man mask not counting.

"And he cheats!" Billy added with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring petulantly at his Widow-faced boyfriend.

"As if Tommy doesn't," Teddy intoned tonelessly with Natasha's voice.

Billy glared at the both of them. "Superpowers should be banned from card games," he grumbled. It was a largely suspected fact that Tommy used his superspeed to peek at other's cards without them knowing, but nobody could ever prove anything. And Teddy borrowing Natasha's poker face? _Totally _unfair. "And the Black Widow is _not _a good look on you," Billy told Teddy sulkily, pouting. "Way less kissable."

Teddy's Natasha face showed no emotion whatsoever. "Maybe that's the point. Poker is not a kissing game, you know."

Tommy just laughed, punching his brother in the shoulder and smirking. "At least _Teddy's _acting like he _means _it!"


	59. Explosion

**Explosion**

A grenade was thrown into the Avengers' ranks.

Tommy caught it, reaching up a hand to pluck it out of the air and regarding it with a smirk for a fraction of a millisecond before he sped into the center of the enemy troops—which was basically the farthest away he could take it from his teammates without the grenade going off in his hand, and there wasn't anyway he could have taken it somewhere where it wouldn't have hurt anybody, so if the weapon was going to go off it might as well go off in the among those who'd thrown it—letting go of the device in the middle of the air, where it stayed, the enemy soldiers surrounding it completely unawares.

Tommy lingered a moment to watch it start to explode.

In slow-motion, the blast was beautiful.

The grenade splintered outwards, shrapnel floating through the air, hanging there, suspended as if from spiderwebs. Tommy reached out to grab one, rubbing it between two of his fingers and smiling slightly.

Then came the actual combustion itself, an unfurling spark of white and yellow and orange and red like so many flame-tipped petals, the blooming of color accompanied by a slowly building wave of heat.

Tommy left the explosion suspended in the air like a pocketable supernova and ran before the beginning of the _BOOM! _had even begun.

* * *

><p>"Grenade!" Wolverine shouted, spotting the device flying towards them and diving for it. The best he could do was curl himself around it, try to take the worst of the blast and hope that everyone else had enough sense to run away, and that they'd be minimally injured. There were definitely advantages to having a healing factor that made one virtually unkillable. Yeah, it would hurt, but he'd had worse. And pain was his life.<p>

But the grenade was falling and he _wasn't going to be fast enough—_

_BOOM! _

A wave of heat and fire, screams, bodies flying and getting torn apart—but it wasn't the Avengers bodies. The explosion was in the middle of the enemy's ranks, and no longer was there a grenade falling amid the Avengers.

"Here," said Tommy, appearing suddenly beside Logan, grabbing the mutant's hand and placing something inside the palm, curling the fingers around the tiny object and smirking. "A souvenir."

Tommy zipped off, and Wolverine opened his hand to see a single piece of shrapnel.

"Sick, crazy kid," Logan muttered, pocketing the shard of metal and popping his claws out, charging into the fray.


	60. Hyperventilating

**Hyperventilating**

"I'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcool_I'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcool," _Tommy repeated to himself, over and over and over as he sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and darting around, trying to get his breathing under control, his entire body covered in sweat. He was shaking uncontrollably, breathing too fast even for him. _"I'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcool." _

He wasn't going to need a paper bag to breath into, he _wasn't, _he was going to get himself under control, he did _not _need to use one of those paper bags he'd hidden underneath the kitchen sink.

It was just a dream. _"I'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcoolI'mcool."_ It was just a fucking dream. _Just a fucking dream. _

Once he got his panic and anxiety under control and could breath slower, he collapsed back against the pillows, white hair splayed out against the white fabric, bedsheets tangled around his legs, t-shirt and boxer shorts sticking to his skin. "I'mcool," he told the ceiling. "I'mcool. Calmandcollectedandshit. Notfreakingout. Nope. I'mmostdefinitelycool."

He glared at the ceiling as if it might try to contradict him. "Yeah,I'mcool," he said, "butI'mnotgettingbacktosleepnowamI?"

Tossing off the sheets—or, probably more accurately, _peeling _the damp fabric off his sweat-covered skin—he dashed to his closet and grabbed his Speed outfit. "MightaswellgoforarunnowthatI'mawake. Forcemyselftocontinuebreathingnormally,youknow? OhfucklookI'mtalkingtomyselfnow. Thisisbad." He stripped out of the sweat-soaked clothes he'd been sleeping in and donned his uniform—he wasn't going out superheroing, but it was still his most durable outfit and the best thing to run around in.

"Alright,let'shitthisplanet!" he declared to himself as he vibrated leapt off the balcony of his apartment, flipped in the air and hit the ground running.

_I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool I'm cool. _He ran to the ocean, streaking out across the water—largest flat surface on the world, the best for when he wanted to just _floor it_ without worrying about many obstacles. Besides, being able to run on water was just plain _cool. _

Salty air in his face, sprays of water behind him, his breathing regulated by the action of running and the nightmares left behind, Tommy spotted an island and vaulted off the top of the dormant volcano, whooping. "Hell_yeah_I'mcool!"

And he didn't even have to use a paper bag this time. Maybe he was getting better.


	61. Bother Bother

**AN: This one might be kinda crack-y. Consider yourselves forewarned.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Bother Bother (Doom)<strong>

Billy was quickly becoming aware of a certain equation, which was basically: Tommy + Boredom = Imminent Doom. It was that simple.

And Tommy got bored a _lot. _A lot a lot a lot. Too much. But how the heck are you supposed to keep someone who has way more time on his hands than the rest of the world from getting bored?

Frankly, you couldn't.

And it really wasn't Billy's job to keep his annoying twin entertained. It should _not_ be his job _nor_ his responsibility. And he should _really _stop giving Tommy _any sort _of suggestions, because the speedster always took him _way _too literally.

"Brother, I'm boooooored," Tommy drawled, coming up behind Billy to wrap his arms around the mage's neck and lean his chin heavily on Billy's shoulder. "What're ya readin'?"

Billy groaned, giving his shoulder a sharp shove upwards to get rid of the speedster hanging on him, then hugging the book to his chest protectively in case Tommy decided to steal it in order to get his attention. "Zombie romance novel, if you must know. You'd find it really boring."

"I'm _already _bored," Tommy whined, vaulting over the edge of the couch to lay himself across his brother's lap. "Why the hell are you reading a zombie romance novel?"

"Because I want to," Billy replied, curtly and coolly. He pushed Tommy roughly off his lap and onto the floor. "And I'm getting _really sick and tired _of you always taking your boredom out on me. Go bother someone else."

"Like who?" Tommy asked, picking himself off the floor and making a show of brushing off his clothes, looking up to glare at his brother from under his eyebrows, flicking strands of argent hair out of his eyes with a quick shake of his head.

"Like _anybody!" _Billy snapped, waving a hand at the world in general. "As long as it's not _me." _Then he added as an afterthought: "Or Teddy."

Tommy looked at him. "Anybody, huh?" A huge grin broke over the speedster's face and he zoomed off.

Billy knew that he should be worried—last time Tommy had gotten bored and Billy had told him to go do something aside from bothering him, Tommy had turned New York City into a huge hopscotch game and gotten Captain Marvel royally pissed at the both of them—but honestly, he didn't give a fiddlestick right now. He just wanted to read his book while he had time to himself that was blissfully uninterrupted by apocalypses or random supervillain attacks.

He _really _should have been worried. He should've known better by know, he really, _really_ should have.

* * *

><p>Victor Von Doom was lounging in his huge, stone throne in his castle in Latveria, staring rather straight through the huge, echoing, empty hall, out through the grand, closed doors, contemplating the world and the best way to take it over, when there was a large gust of wind even though none of the windows were open.<p>

"Hey, D_oom!"_ came a vexingly joyous voice just to his left. "Why so gl_oomy?" _

Doctor Doom leapt to his feet and whirled around, only to see the Young Avenger Speed sitting on the armrest of his throne, smirking at him.

Victor just stared for a moment.

None of his alarms—magical not technological—had gone off, and if he had any doubt about his sanity he would have thought he was hallucinating, but Doctor Doom did not hallucinate, so that meant that Speed was really here, sitting on his throne, in his castle. But still none of his alarms were going off, so there were no other meddling Avengers or Young Avengers here—unless that infuriating _Wiccan _had teleported in—which mean that this couldn't be any kind of invasion, because no way in the all magical planes could this Speed _ever _beat Doctor Doom single-handed.

While Victor thought all this, Speed had kept talking.

"Whoa, no need to freak out on me, gloomy Doomy! Seriously, I'm not here to fight or anything, honest. This is just a social visit. Do you get social visits? I can't really imagine you getting social visits, unless they're from Loki or someone. Hey, have you seen Loki lately? Nobody knows whose side he's on—but I guess that's pretty normal, huh? Hey, this is a _really _comfortable throne, I can see why you were just sitting here doing nothing." Now Speed was not just perched on the armrest, but actually _lounging _in Doctor Doom's throne, like he _owned _it.

And Victor was angry—unbelievably angry—but he was also intensely confused. What was this stupid little guttersnipe doing in _Doom's _country, in _Doom's _castle, in _Doom's _throne, without any kind of backup and without any kind of clear purpose, just chattering away?

Speed just kept talking.

Why was this happening to Doom? _Why?_

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Speed continued nonchalantly, slipping diagonally in the throne and tossing one leg up over an armrest. "No reason, really. I was bored. And I have a question I want to ask you, and I figured, hey, why not just go ask him now? I've got nothing better to do!" Speed grinned up at Doom, the color of his eyes obscured behind those ridiculous orange goggles. "So, when you were going to marry Wanda... did you actually love her? Did you?"

It was fortunate that Victor's face was hidden by his metal mask, because his expression, if it could have been seen, would have been one of absolute outrage and umbrage.

"Enough!" Victor bellowed, raising his hands, a brilliant scarlet glow surrounding them. "You should not have come here, boy," he growled out threateningly.

"Try to blast me and I'll dodge, and you'll destroy your very comfy chair," Tommy pointed out, raising his eyebrows behind his orange goggles. "And I told you I didn't come here to fight! Not that I wouldn't enjoy a fight, but really, I just wanted to ask you if you actually loved my mother, because I was curious. Billy told me that you even offered to let him life here once you and Wanda married. Is that true? Would you have let me live in this castle too? It's an awesome castle! I love the parapets, and you've got some awfully nice guest rooms for someone who I'm guessing never has any guests over." Tommy grinned at him.

"Get out," Victor snarled, lowering his hands. This stupid child wasn't worth his effort.

"Your lab is kind of really creepy," Tommy continued, grin changing to something more like a frown and a grimace and a sneer all wrapped up in one. "You don't do experiments on people down there, do you? Of course I wouldn't put that past you, being an evil supervillain _and _a doctor. And I'm pretty sure doctors are already evil by definition."

"Get out or I will force you out," Victor said, voice full of foreshadowed doom.

"I'll leave," Tommy said, smirking at him, "as soon as you tell me whether you really loved Wanda or note. The question's been bothering me for a while, I'm not leaving until my curiosity has been satisfied."

"You are an insufferable child," Victor said, infuriated and confused, raising his hands glowing with magic again.

"You're not the first to tell me that, and you're not gonna be the last," Tommy grinned, waving a hand dismissively, looking very pleased with himself and not at all troubled by the threat of being blasted with magic by one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth. "I like your throne. I want one. Hey, has anybody ever told you that you have probably the best supervillain name ever? I mean, the word 'doom' just has a really great apocalyptic weight to it, and it's really fun to say and rhyme with." Tommy grinned hugely as he began singing: "Doctor Dooom, had a brooooom, and a vacuuuum, which, like a looooon, he took to the mooooon via a hot air ballooooon, to clean his rooooom, and returned too sooooon, crashing with a might 'fwoooom!' right into a sand duuuuune with a pluuuuuuume of smoke rising from that crater of doooom—"

Victor blasted him.

Or at least, tried to. He basically just ended up destroying his throne.

"Dude!" Tommy exclaimed from the other side of the room. "That was an _awesome _chair! And you just destroyed it! What the hell did you do that for?!"

"I'm warning you, boy," Doom growled, sending another blast of magic at the speedster, "get out before I make you sincerely regret having come here. If you leave now, without another word, I will let you go in peace."

"I _told _you!" Tommy said, now on the opposite other side of the room, "I'm not leaving until you admit whether you actually loved my mother or whether you just wanted to use her, like everybody else!"

Doom considered a moment. Did he continue wasting his time fighting the insolent twerp, or did he just give him an answer and get him to go away so he could continue with his nefarious plans of world domination?

"No," Victor Von Doom said, looking at the young speedster through the slits in his metal mask. "I did not love her."

"I'mtellingheryousaidthat!" Tommy declared, speeding out of the castle and out of Latveria and out across the ocean and across the world towards New York.

Doom rebuilt his chair and sat back down in it. It really _was _incredibly comfortable.

Now, should he or should he not declare war on the Avengers for Speed trespassing on his property and desecrating his throne...

* * *

><p>"HeyScarletMom!" Tommy said, skidding to a halt in Avengers Mansion, where Wanda had found Billy and been sitting on the couch next to him, inquiring about what he was reading. "Guesswhat?!"<p>

"What?" Wanda asked, looking up at her white-haired son with a soft smile.

"IjustvisitedVictorVonDoom! Hesaysheneverlovedyou,bytheway. OhandImighthavejuststartedawar. ImeanIhopenotandIdidn'tevenfighthimoranythingbutheseemedkindofupsetandhewouldn'tanswermyquestionsandthenheblewuphischair!"

Wanda blinked at him. "You went to Latveria and visited Doom?"

"That'swhatIsaid," Tommy agreed. "Didyouhearthepartabouthowheneverlovedyouhejustwantedtouseyou?"

Wanda blinked again, while Billy gaped.

"Tommy," Billy said slowly, "you seriously just went to Latveria to bother Doctor Doom because you were bored?"

"Wellyeah!" Tommy answered, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. "YoutoldmetogobothersomebodyanybodyelsesoIdid!"

Billy leapt off the couch, throwing up his hands and striding out of the room, hollering at the top of his lungs, "Hey Avengers! If World War Doom starts tomorrow, it's all Tommy's fault!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Good thing poor Doom was too confused to actually get upset enough to declare war or really try to kill Tommy. Confuse a Doom! This Doom desperately needs to be confused. <strong>

**And I cannot, for the life of me, decide whether or not Doom actually loved Wanda. Sometimes I think: "Yes, he totally did love her!" and sometimes I think: "No way he actually loved her, he's _Doom." _I cannot possibly be the only person wondering. **

**So Tommy was, too. **


	62. That's Not a Snake

**That's Not a Snake**

Tommy was running around the world, not going anywhere in particular, just letting his feet lead him.

Of course, running got him nice and warmed up, so he ran to Antarctica for the cold hair to help dry his sweat and cool him off—but he didn't stop running, he just ran around and around the white expanse of glaciers and leaping over the heads of emperor penguins, and then he ended up in the tropics in a prehistoric age ruled by gigantic reptiles.

"Oh hey, it's the Savage Land!" Tommy exclaimed with a grin, slowing to a stop at the edge of a tropical jungle, staring out at the lush valley below and watching the pterodactyls or pteranodons or whatever those flying dinosaurs were circling in the sky. "I'd almost forgotten about this place!"

Tommy ran around the jungle, looking at the huge flora and doing things like running between the legs of a T-rex who never even realize that the speedster was there.

He paused at the top of a cliff, gazing out at the forest below, a small smile on his lips. "This place is crazy!" he said to himself.

There was a strange noise behind him, and Tommy turned to see a small dinosaur standing there, regarding him with a tilt of its reptilian head. It was two-legged and had that predatory-dinosaur look to it, like a velociraptor or something, except that it was really small, not even coming up to Tommy's waist.

Tommy returned the curious look. Then his eyes lit up as an idea came to him.

"Hold on, little dinosaur!" he said, taking the creature into his arms and breaking into a supersonic run. "You now have a very important mission!"

* * *

><p>There were strange sounds coming from Billy Kaplan's room.<p>

Billy had been walking down the hall of Avengers Mansion, heading to his room to drop some textbooks off, but he stopped outside his door, listening with furrowed brows.

From inside his room came sounds of crashing and growling.

Setting his textbooks down in the hall, Billy turned back to his door, eyes narrowed as he reached out to the doorknob, turning it cautiously, slowly and quietly, and pushing the door open the tiniest crack, before suddenly flinging it open and striding into his room, eyes sparking blue and a magical wind whipping around him.

"Whatever's going on in here," Billy said threateningly, "it needs to—!"

He stopped.

Because there, in the middle of his room, surrounded by debris or all his destroyed stuff, was a dinosaur.

As small dinosaur, about the size of a medium-sized domestic dog, but still a dinosaur. An actual, real live dinosaur.

"_What the?!"_ he demanded.

The dinosaur yawned at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Hey bro!" Tommy was suddenly beside him, wearing the most self-satisfied grin. "I visited the Savage Land today, and I brought you a souvenir!"

"_You put a dinosaur in my room?!" _Billy shrieked in indignant fury, before turning to the creature and saying through gritted teeth, _"Backtothesavagelandbacktothesavagelandbacktothesavageland." _

The dinosaur disappeared, and Billy whirled on his brother. "What the hell did you put a dinosaur in my room for?!" he demanded angrily, eyes still scintillating a bright cerulean. "It_ tore up my comic books!" _

"Dude, calm down," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "You can just use your magic to fix your room. And come on, you finding a dinosaur in your room was _funny_, don't you deny it! I mean, seriously, just think about it."

Billy thought about it. And yeah, okay, maybe the sheer _absurdity _of finding a prehistoric _dinosaur _in your room was pretty crazy, but _still. _His _comic books. _

"Besides," Tommy continued, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and shrugging, a huge smirk on his face. "I was under the impression that brothers did things like sticking nonvenomous snakes in each other's beds."

Billy just gaped at him, mouth working silently for a few moments. _"That," _he cried, gesturing at his destroyed room and the spot where the dinosaur had been, "was _not _a snake!"


	63. That's Not My Name

**That's Not My Name**

_**I.  
><strong>_

"My name is Billy Kaplan, and this is Tommy Shepherd—" Billy started to introduce.

"Maximoff!" Tommy interrupted, crossing his arms and glaring. "I _told _you*! It's Tommy _Maximoff! _Call me Shepherd again and I will _vaporize _you."

Billy cleared his throat. "...ahem, _excuse_ me," he amended, "and this is Tommy _Maximoff."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>II.<em>  
><strong>

A hospital nurse walked into the waiting room, glancing down at a sheet of paper on clipboard and then up at the pacing teenager who looked almost exactly like one of their current patients. "Mr. Shepherd—"

"That's _not _my name!" the lad snapped out, whirling on her.

"—oh, I'm sorry," she said, startled, looking at him with wide eyes. "Mr. Shepherd is listed as Mr. Kaplan's family, I was told that a Mr. Shepherd was waiting to see him, and I assumed that you—"

"No no!" the teen exclaimed, shaking his head. "I mean, yes!" He brushed a hand through his bleached locks in what seemed to be frustration. "Shepherd is technically and legally my name, but don't _call _me that!"

The nurse glanced down at her clipboard, then back up at the boy. "And what would you preferred to be called?"

"Just call me Tommy." Tommy sighed. "Can I see my idiotic brother-from-another-mother now so I can tell him how stupid he is for getting himself shot?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>III.<em>  
><strong>

"Heya!" Speed greeted David's friend with a grin. "My name's Tommy Maximoff, and this" he jerked his thumb at Wiccan, "is my twin, Billy Maximoff."

"Technically it's Billy _Kaplan, _actually," Billy said, "but—"

"Dude, you're a Maximoff," Tommy interjected, rolling his eyes, before slinging an arm around Billy's shoulders. "We're the second generation of Maximoff twins! Complete with the magic the speed and all the crazy!"

"Um, yeah..." Billy rolled his eyes, before turning back to the friend that David had introduced them to, saying, "legally my surname is Kaplan, though. He also has a different legal name, but—"

"But we're not talking about that!" Tommy exclaimed, waving a hand. "People who call me that get blown up! That's what happens."

"Or at least, that's what _would _happen, if we didn't keep you from blowing people up," Billy said, glaring at his brother, whose arm was still slung around him, pulling in a rather annoying way at his red cloak.

"I feel like I should be entitled to blowing certain people up," Tommy said airily. "Like, people who are trying to kill me. And people who call me Shepherd."

"Yeah, no, that's not happening," Billy told him with narrowed eyes and lowered brows, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not gonna let you turn into a supervillain."

"Wolverine isn't a supervillain! Also, not that long ago you were _encouraging_ me to become a supervillain**," Tommy pointed out.

"No, I wasn't."

"You were!"

"Only jokingly! Not seriously!"

"Yeah," Tommy nodded thoughtfully, patting Billy's shoulder with the hand that wasn't slung around the witch's shoulders, "you're more likely to become a supervillain than I am."

"What?" Billy asked, jerking out of his brother's grip to turn and glare at him. "How do you figure that?!"

"Hey, I wasn't the one the Avengers tried to lock up!" Tommy said, raising his palms.

"Oh?" Billy raised his dark eyebrows. "Then what do you call what Tony Stark did the other day?"

"That was him testing my hyperkinetic vibrations against that element Starkium that he created," Tommy scoffed. "And I _totally_ won."

"He locked you in the basement!" Billy snapped.

"He did not!" Tommy retorted, hands on his hips. "It was a metal bunker located under Avengers Tower!"

"Same difference!"

"The thing's Hulk-proof!"

"Yes, it is! And locked you up in it, and said he wasn't going to let you out until you shut up!"

"Is _that _what he said? I wasn't really listening."

Meanwhile, while that argument was going on, Teddy smiled and extended his hand for David's friend to shake. "Hi, my name's Teddy Altman. Don't mind Billy and Tommy. They do that kind of thing a lot."

* * *

><p><em><strong>IV.<strong>_

"_Thomas Shepherd," the cold voice said. "You've been a very, very bad boy." _

"_L-let me go! You can't do this! You can't—!"_

"_Oh, but we can. Who's going to stop us? We even have permission from your parental units." _

_A paper was held in front of his face, and as he focused through the tears in his eyes, he was able to see that it was a waiver form. _

I, parent of the criminal adolescent _Thomas Shepherd__, _understand that he/her has terminal behavior problems and hereby give my permission for the Juvenile Detention Facility to perform any experimental surgeries, prescribe any drugs, and perform any tests on my child that they see fit in order to help him/her with his/her physical and/or mental problems in order to transform him/her into a reformed citizen.

Signed,_Frank Shepherd _and _Mary Shepherd_

"_See?" the cold voice said, taking away the paper. "Signed by both your parents. What we are about to do to you is with their consent. Remember that, Thomas Shephered This is for your own good." _

_He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from squeezing past his lids. Needles stabbed into his arm. _

"_Just some sedative and pain killers. Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit." _

_The world faded to pitch-black nothingness. _

_And then he woke up what felt hardly seconds later, and there was _**pain**_, bright and white and blinding and he _screamed.

"_His metabolism's too fast—his body's already burned right through the drugs!" _

"_We're not done!" _

"_He's _awake! _Inject more."_

"No! _Don't. If we have to keep pumping him full of enough tranquilizers to kill a horse every few minutes do you even _realize _how damn expensive that would get? Forget it." _

_And there was pain **pain **_**pain **_until he mercifully blacked out. _

_Blink. Blink. Blinding white lights. _

"_Welcome back, Thomas Shepherd. How do you feel?" _

_He felt like he wanted to spit in the doctor's face. _

"_Well, Thomas Shepherd?" _

_No answer._

"_Thomas Shepherd?" _

_Recalcitrant silence. _

"_Shepherd?"_

_A hiss. "That'snotmyname." _

"_What was that, Shepherd?" _

"Fuck you."

* * *

><p><strong> <em>V.<em>**

"Thomas Shepherd!" Wanda said severely, hands on her hips as she glared at her son. "I need you to go apologize to your brother right now!"

"No," Tommy said obstinately, crossing his arms and glaring right back, green on green. "And don't call me that. That's not my name."

Wanda was still glaring at him, but when he continued, "My name's not Shepherd. It's _Maximoff," _she blinked, her posture changing from one of stern motherly scolding to one of shocked and somewhat pleased bafflement.

"If you're going to scold me like I'm your son, then you should at least scold me like I'm _your son," _he said, his posture not relaxed even slightly. "Aren't I a Maximoff, now? You keep _telling _me I'm your son."

"Oh, Tommy," Wanda said, stepping forward to envelop him in her arms, tucking his head against her shoulder. _"Yes, _you're a Maximoff. Although you must be aware that the title _does _come with a great deal of negative connotation."

"Betterthan_Shepherd,"_ Tommy mumbled.

"What was that?" she asked, pulling away slightly to look at his face, brushing a strand of white hair out of his green eyes and smiling softly.

"I may be your son, but that _still _doesn't mean I do hugs," Tommy said with a scoff, trying to wriggle away.

"Yes it does," Wanda laughed, hugging him close to her again. "You're a Maximoff. Maximoffs do hugs."

"Shepherds don't."

Wanda took his chin in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Then good thing you're a Maximoff and not a Shepherd, huh?"

Tommy blinked.

This time when she pulled him back into a full embrace, Tommy buried his head in her curling brown hair, hands somewhat hesitantly coming up to wrap around her waist.

"Hey! I want in!" came Billy's voice, and then suddenly Tommy found himself being hugged from the side by his twin brother.

And then Teddy declared, "Family group hug!" and wrapped his huge arms around all of them.

"This sucks," Tommy grumbled to the warm laughter of the others, even as he thought, _You know what? Maybe this isn't so bad... _

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>** I think I murdered my feels writing this chapter ;-;**

*first took place in my fic _Family Tree  
><em>

**took place my fic _The Tommy Problem, _Chapter 9


	64. Bad Day

**Bad Day (Make it a Good One)**

"O. M. _G,"_ Billy ground out, flopping onto the couch with his arms hiding his face, a moaning noise escaping his throat. "This was a _wonderful _day up until the moment I _woke up." _

"Hey bro!" Tommy said as he zipped in, pausing for a millisecond when he saw his twin lying there half-draped on the couch and half falling off. "Whoa dude, what's wrong with _you?" _

Billy groaned wretchedly. "Today _sucks." _

"How can _today _suck?" Tommy asked, running over to check the clock in the other room, then coming back to say, "It's only like 11 a.m. man!" as he shoved Billy in the shoulder. "There's still _tons _of time to _make _today a good day!"

"It _was _a good day," Billy grumbled, sending a rather limp arm to bat Tommy away. Which, of course, didn't work. "Before I woke up. I actually really slept _well. _Never once woke up from any nightmares or anything, and I actually _slept in. _But then I woke up. And then everything went crashing downhill like it got kicked by the Hulk, and now today _sucks." _

"It can't have been _that _bad," Tommy said, sitting down on the arm of the couch and looking down at Billy with his eyebrows furrowed slightly. "I mean, there haven't been any villains to show up and ruin stuff or anything."

"Villains would have been better," Billy said miserably, rolling onto his back so he could look up at his twin's face through the mess of black hair flopped over his eyes, his expression absolutely cheerless. "It just..." he waved a languid hand with a frustrated laugh. "It was just like, no villains or anything, right? The world isn't currently ending, there's no superheroing that needs to get done that isn't being fully taken care of, so, like, today was just supposed to be a nice day of relaxation, right?"

"Right," Tommy said, quirking a white brow as he waited for his twin to get to the point.

Billy sighed, his arm sagging over to cover his eyes. "Yeah, so, I wake up, and I feel great. But then I go to find Teddy, and found that he had left me a note saying he'd gone on a mission with Captain Marvel into space, and wouldn't be back for a while. So, like, that's okay, I don't need to be with Teddy all the time, we're not _that _codependent. But it still put a bit of a dampener on the day, and then I went down to the kitchen to get breakfast. But, like, I got my cereal all out, but then I went to the fridge for milk and it turned out that we don't _have _any. So I tried using orange juice in my cereal, but that was just a _bad _idea."

Tommy snorted. "Yeah, I've tried that too. It's pretty disgusting."

"So," Billy continued, "I had to toss the cereal because I could _not _get myself to eat more than a few bites of it. So then I was looking around for something else to eat for breakfast, and somebody had made an omelet and some of it was still left in the skillet on the stove, so I decided to have some of that, because we all know that anythign left out is up for grabs unless somebody puts their name on it. But the omelet was _really futzing spicy_ and of course we didn't have any milk to help cool the burn so my mouth is _still _stinging even though I tried brushing my teeth. And then there was nothing to do, and I tried turning on the radio, but _every single channel _that I like had commercials, so I got frustrated and turned it off. And I thought maybe I'd listen to my StarkPod, right? Listen to some My Chemical Romance or something."

"You really like that emo stuff," Tommy remarked, the corner of his lips twitching.

"It's _not _emo!" Billy said emphatically, removing arm from over his eyes to glare up at his brother. "MCR is _rock _music."

Tommy held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I hear ya."

Billy glared at him for a few more moments, before his gaze shifted to the ceiling and he continued, "But anyways, I couldn't find my StarkPod, and then I remember that the last time I'd been listening to it I'd been wearing one of Teddy's jackets and I'd put it in the pocket, and Teddy apparently took the jacket with him when he went on his mission. So, no StarkPod. And all the Avengers I ran into were too busy to talk to me, and kept calling me things like 'kid' and 'son' and treating me like a _child. _I'm _seventeen!" _

"Me too, bro," Tommy said, leaning over to mess up Billy's hair, grinning. "It's _hard _being seventeen. Ya feel like an adult, but most'a the time none of the adults treat you like one. We're superheroes but we can't even _vote _yet."

Billy smiled slightly at his brother, grabbing the speedster's hand. "I can't _wait _till we turn eighteen. We should throw a huge party."

Tommy laughed and didn't pull his hand out of his brother's grasp. "A _huge _one," he agreed, grinning. "And there _better _be lots of music and dancing."

"But, yeah," Billy said, smile fading away. "My day has sucked." He shifted his left hand so that his palm was flat against the palm of Tommy's right, their hands the exact same size and shape, their skin the exact same tone. "You know," he said, "this identical-twin thing used to be kinda creepy, but now it's just _cool." _He smiled slightly again, taking Tommy's hand in both of his, running his fingers over the speedster's knuckles, then flipping Tommy's hand over so that he could compare the lines on their palms. The he examined the pads of their fingers, comparing fingerprints. "The crease lines in our hands are the same, but we have different fingerprints," he observed.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "You are _so _weird, you know that right?"

Billy tilted his head back to grin at Tommy. "No weirder than _you." _

Tommy made a gagging noise, quickly pulling his hand away from his twin and jumping off the couch, throwing up his hands and declaring, "Oh no you don't! You are _not_ sucking me into that disgusting adorableness that you and Teddy share! It is _not _happening!"

"You think we're adorable?" Billy asked, sitting up and widening his brown eyes.

"_Fuck _you!"

Billy laughed merrily. "You know," he smiled at his brother, "you've totally made my day. Maybe this entire day won't suck _after_ all."

Tommy looked absolutely floored by that statement. _"What? _I haven't done anything!"

"You're you," Billy grinned at him sunnily. "That's enough."

"_You,"_ Tommy pointed a finger accusingly, narrowing his eyes, "are _disgusting. _Absolutely _sickening, _and I am _not _going to let me _infect _me with all your—"

Billy sprang up and hugged him.

Tommy made an undignified squeak and pushed his brother away hurriedly, saying, "Get _away _from me, you asshole!"

Billy laughed. "And you say it's easy to get under _my _skin!"

"I'm going to go throw up now," Tommy announced, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Here," Billy said, running after his twin and grabbing Tommy's arm, grinning, "I'll come and hold your bangs out of your face for you so you don't get vomit in your hair."

Tommy choked.


	65. Blackout

**Blackout**

It was the middle of the night and the Young Avengers (or rather: Tommy, Billy, and Teddy) were currently the only ones at the Avengers Mansion. The _Avenger_ Avengers had gone out to fight some supervillain, but had told the teens that they should stay and try to get some sleep, because the adults had the problem handled.

But after being woken up by the alarm, none of them could get back to sleep.

So Teddy and Billy had curled up on the couch with some fuzzy blankets to watch _The Sound of Music, _and Tommy was lounging on an armchair on the other side of the room, his back on the seat cushion and his legs flung over the backrest, earbuds in his ears and a book held up a above him, the pages turning about twice every second. Every minute or so he'd flash away and return with a different book. Titles he'd read that night consisted of everything from Tony's physics textbooks to Teddy's restaurant cookbooks to Clint's newspapers to Billy's comic books, while he blocked out his brother's favorite movie by listening to his StarkPod that had been specially crafted by Tony to play songs at about ten times their normal speed, making them more tolerable for the speedster to listen to.

He was in the middle of reading a particularly boring recipe for quinoa stuffed peppers when everything went black.

Completely and utterly pitch black.

"_Damnitnotagain!" _Tommy cried. "What the hell do supervillains have against the mansion's technical stuff working properly?! First the heater, and then the air conditioner, and _now _they fry our electricity!"

"You don't _know _that it was a supervillain's fault," came Teddy's voice reasonably out of the pitch darkness.

"This mansion runs on the most modern and advanced technology," came Billy's voice from the eerie silence. "What besides a supervillain _could _cut the power?"

"...Maybe Tony needed to reroute all the power to one of his science projects?" came Teddy's voice, sounding unsure.

Billy's voice answered: "Well, whoever cut our power is going to very, _very _sorry. We were just getting to the best part of the movie!"

And then suddenly there was light—but not electrical light. No, there was light because the room was suddenly filled with lit candles, which cast a warm, fiery glow around the walls, casting their eyes in deep shadow except for the flickering orange and yellow reflections of candle flames on their cornea.

"I wonder what Doctor Strange had all these candles lying around for," Tommy said, more of a statement than a question, as he waved his finger back and forth through the flame of one of the larger candles.

"How did you even _find _all these candles in the pitch dark?" Billy asked his brother, blinking in surprise.

Tommy shrugged. "I'm a speedster, remember? Everything about me is faster, thus: my eyes adjust to the dark faster. Also, I have the entire layout of the mansion memorized by now. Double whammy!" He continued waving his finger through the flame, almost meditatively, shadows and firelight cast flickering across his pale features. The candlelight made his achromatic hair seem to glow a warm orange. "I suddenly just realized that I'm starving. You know what we should do? We should eat all the food in the refrigerator that is no longer keeping stuff cool due to the power failure. Do everybody a favor by eating it all before it spoils."

"I'm not really hungry," Billy said, snagging the edge of one of the fuzzy blankets draped over his legs and pulling the warm fabric up to his chin. "And also, power failure means no _heater. _Again."

"You are not sticking your hands on me!" Tommy said immediately. "You've got a Teddy Heater right there! Seriously though," he disappeared, returning with several boxes of various take-out food, "anybody gonna help me eat this? We wouldn't want all this shawarma and stuff to go bad!"

"I'm hungry," Teddy said, getting up off the couch to join the speedster at the table, grinning.

Billy rolled his brown eyes, though it was hard to tell because of the way that his sockets were cast in shadow. "You're _always _hungry, Ted."

"Must be the alien metabolism," Teddy said, sitting down in a chair and grabbing a box of Korean barbecue.

"You think you got your appetite from the Skrull or the Kree?" Tommy asked conversationally, taking a bite of shawarma.

"Probably both," Billy answered for his boyfriend, snorting, before stealing Teddy's blanket to wrap around himself as well.

"Mm," Teddy said, gesturing at the leftovers he was eating, "even when this stuff is warm, it's still not as good as New York style Korean barbecue place on Earth-212."

"Hey, I have an idea!" Tommy declared, a piece of sushi paused halfway to his mouth. "Let's have an eating contest! Your alien metabolism versus my speedy metabolism!"

"Please don't," Billy said from the couch.

The witch was ignored, much to his chagrin, and Teddy said brightly, "Oh, Tommy you are _on." _

And then they were both shoving food into their mouths, and it was absolutely disgusting.

"Ugh," Billy said, hiding his head under his blankets. _"I can't watch."_

* * *

><p>"I won," Teddy said, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head as he grinned smugly at the speedster.<p>

"_Totally _unfairly," Tommy griped, crossing his arms. All the containers on the table were empty, but neither of the teens' figures looked as if they'd each just eaten enough food for four people. "I hate super spicy shit! I accidentally ate some of that crazy wasabi, and had to go wash my mouth out for like a full _five minutes._ And my nose and mouth and eyes _still_ sting!"

"I still won," Teddy shrugged.

"Is it over?" came Billy's voice, as he glanced out from under the blankets.

"Yeah, Bee, it's over," Teddy grinned, starting to cross back over to the couch to reclaim his spot and his blanket.

"Nuh-uh! No way!" Billy said, grabbing the blankets closer and glaring at his boyfriend, stopping him in his tracks. "No snuggling until you go brush your teeth!"

Teddy laughed. "Very well," he said, turning to leave the room, calling over his shoulder, "the peppermint toothpaste or the cinnamon?"

"Peppermint kisses are better," Billy answered.

"Peppermint it is!" Teddy grinned, walking out of the room.

A second later and he stepped back in, smiling sheepishly. "Um, the power's still out," he gestured to their dark surroundings, "and this room's the only one with candles."

"Then shapeshift yourself cat eyes or something," Tommy said unsympathetically, clearing the containers of the table in less than a second. "I'm going to run this energy off. See ya inna bit!"

He rushed out of the room so fast that he blew out all the candles.

Billy gave a startled yelp at the sudden darkness. _"Dammit, Tommy!"_

* * *

><p>"Hey! Guess what?!" Tommy said, speeding back into the room some five minutes later, blowing out the half the candles that Billy had magically re-lit. He was wearing his Speed outfit. "It's not just the mansion that's having a power outage! Turns out that the entire state of New York is in total blackout! And the Avengers are fighting some crazy scientist dudes who are harnessing the power to make some ridiculous weapon of destruction or something similar like that! I'm going to go help!"<p>

And then he zoomed off again, the gust from his burst of speed blowing out the other half of the candles.

Billy sighed, and said, _" __Iwantthecandlestolight. ___Iwantthecandlestolight_. Iwantthecandlestolight," _for the second time in the last few minutes.

Teddy came back in after brushing his teeth to be greeted by Billy saying, "Avengers are fighting supervillain scientists, it seems. Tommy went to help. Think we should join them?"

"Unless you have something better to do with the power being out," Teddy said, raising a blond eyebrow.

Billy glanced around the room, taking in the burning candles, the powerless TV, and the powerless radio. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, removing the blankets from his legs and standing up. "Let's go kick some bad guy butt for shutting down the power right before the best scene in _The Sound of Music." _

Teddy grinned. "For we wouldn't be Avengers without something to avenge!"


	66. Superhero

**Superhero**

Tommy loved being a superhero.

It his favorite thing in the world—second only to running. So, okay, being a superhero was Tommy's _second _favorite thing in the world. But still, he _loved _it. Becoming a superhero was easily the best thing that ever happened to him.

He loved the freedom. He loved being able to beat up bad guys. He loved the excitement, the danger, the adrenaline.

But, maybe more than actually _being _a superhero, he loved everything that came with it.

The freedom. The friends. The family. The feeling that he _belonged. _

The feeling of helping people, of saving lives, of knowing that these people got to live another day because of _him, _knowing that he'd actually made a difference in the world. It felt _good. _It felt _really_ good.

Of course, being a superhero also appealed to Tommy's rebel side. The side of him that gloried in being able to say, _Screw what the adults think, I'm going to do what's __**right, **_and, _Screw the world, I'm going to save it whether it wants to be saved or __**not, **_and, _Screw who they_ _want me to be, I'm going to be __**me**__ and it's going to be fucking __**great. **_

It appealed to Tommy's rebel side, the part of him that said, _**Screw **__the living weapon __**they **__were trying to turn me into, I'm a fucking __**superhero. **_

And he was. He was a superhero. He was the exact _opposite_ of what he was being created to be—see what the doctors and his parents and everybody who every laid a finger on him and everybody who ever told him he was a failure and would never amount to anything and everybody who ever doubted him and everybody who ever degraded him and everybody who ever hated him think of _that! _They could live their worthless lives and he would save the world and help keep them alive, but they were snails and they were _nothing _and he was part of _Earth's Mightiest Heroes. _

He was a _person _and he was _home superior _and he had _the best superpower ever _and he was doing _good _with that power—he was a _hero_ that maybe some little kids even looked _up _to—and he was _not _a weapon—he would _never _be a weapon.

Being a superhero may never have been something that he'd ever wanted to be, but now that he'd experienced it, he never wanted to be anything else.

He was a fucking damn superhero and it was _amazing._


	67. Faster Than

**Faster Than ****_(You, Everybody, and Everything Else)_**

Tommy was fast.

Not only was Tommy fast, but he was _really fucking fast. _

Faster-than-the-_speed-of-sound_ fast. Sonic booms punctuated the speeds of his accelerations.

Faster-than-the-_Blackbird _fast. He'd raced the plane several times. It had been really boring. He'd had to wait what felt like _weeks _for the Avengers to catch up.

Faster-than-the-_laws-of-physics_ fast. Water was solid ground beneath the furious pounding of his feet.

Faster-than-_gravity-_fast. Fuck it, he could run up sheer walls and across ceilings. Falling at terminal velocity was like floating.

Faster-than-thought-fast. Seriously, he could remove the gun from someone's hand before they could even _begin _to _think _about pulling the trigger. Faster than a normal person's nervous system, faster than neurons and nuerotransmitters and all that shit. Billy was a Norse Nerd, and had some books about Norse myths—Tommy had read them, once, when he was really bored, and there'd been this myth (not the one where Thor and Loki dressed in drag, but there was that one too, which Tommy really wanted to ask them whether that had actually happened) where Thor and Loki, and had gone to Utgard because Thor wanted to flex his might against that of the giants, and when they'd arrived they'd needed to prove themselves through remarkable feats of talent—interestingly enough, the giant king was named Utgard-Loki—and Thialfi—oh, right, Thor had picked up a couple servants on the way to Utgard, one of which was a human called Thialfi who was very good at running—had to race against a giant called 'Hugi,' and of course Hugi won because he was actually just Utgard-Loki's thought—but Tommy was sure that he could have won a race against the giant king's thoughts, no problem.

He was faster-than—well, _everything _and _everyone. _Even Pietro. Because Pietro may be Quicksilver, but Tommy was _Speed, _pure and simple. The very _embodiment _of speed in every single way possible.


	68. Run Yourself to Death

**Run Yourself to Death****_ (Please Don't)_**

"Tommy, you need to stop," they told him.

"Tommy, you need to slow down," they told him.

"You're going to wear yourself ragged, Tommy," they told him.

"You can't keep running, Tommy," they told him. "You don't _have _to keep running."

But he _did. _They just didn't understand, this—this _need, _this—this _fear _this _panic _this _desperation_ this _desire _this—he _needed _to run, he couldn't _stop, _he—"I _can't _stop_. _Now _now."_

There were wolves on his heels and there was a world trying to catch him and trap him and pin him down and devour him and there were hot coals beneath his feet and there was a stillness trying to suffocate him and there were emotions trying to worm their way into his heart and there were people trying to get inside his head and there was time wasting away around him and there were bad guys that needed to be stopped and there were people that needed to be saved and there was his own life that was trying to kill him and there were demons that were trying to defeat him and there were secrets inside of him and there were things plodding steadily like zombies after him and there was everything that was plotting against him and there was horror and beauty around him and there was life and energy pumping within him and there was wind that was taunting him and running was glory and running was freedom and running was victory—

—even when he staggered back to his apartment or the mansion starved and exhausted with the ground bucking beneath his feet and the air around him crawling with black masses and every single light running like watercolors and his head and limbs feeling like they were made of lead both in heaviness and in lack of nerve endings and he would stumble through the building like a dead man walking and collapse onto his bed unconscious before his body even hit the mattress.

"Tommy, you need to eat something," Wanda would tell him when he awoke and tried to run away again because there was always _something. _

"_Notnow. Not now..."_

"Tommy, you're a running junkee," one of the doctors on the team told him. "This has become a compulsive habit and obsessive dependency."

"It's not healthy, Tommy," the doctor told him.

"_Areyoukidding? Iwas__**born**__torun. Fuck,Iwas__**created**__torun." _

"Thomas, you need to take care of yourself," Wanda would tell him, all desperate earnestness. "If you don't rest and eat then you'll run yourself to _death." _

And he would look at her, blink, and say, "Right, sorry. Sorry..."

This time as he collapsed at the table, he said, "I don't mean to, I just... sometimes it's hard to remember I'm not immortal, ya know? When I'm running so fast that nothing can touch me..."

And Wanda put a hand on his arm and smiled as she set down a plate of food she'd prepared for him. "I know, Tommy," she said as he dug in with exhausted greed. "Most people know to stop running when their muscles burn and they run out of breath, but you," she ran her fingers through his white hair, and he was so busy eating he let her and didn't try to complain or pull away, "that doesn't happen to you, does it? You get all of the pleasure and none of the pain. Your mutation lets you keep going and going and going without your muscles fatiguing. Your enhanced lungs allow you to continue aerobic respiration even sprinting your fastest, and when you do go into anaerobic respiration, you exhale all the acids that would build up in your muscles and you don't go into oxygen debt, so your body lacks the signals to let you know that you need to stop, and you get pumped on adrenalin and forget about hunger so you just keep going until you drop."

"Mm," Tommy said, licking his fingers and glancing over at her. "Sorry, were you saying something, Scarlet Mom? The food tasted so good I wasn't listening."

Wanda's green eyes sparked scarlet. "Don't end up running yourself to death, Tommy. You heard about what happened when I lost you and William the first time."


	69. Doctor Speed

**AN: I feel like I should mention that these one-shots are not all necessarily in the same universe. I just like exploring different stuff, and I can't keep things straight in my head... so, yeah. Take what you want for your own headcannons, and leave what you don't.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Doctor Speed<strong>

A shot rang out and Billy screamed and dropped to the ground. Blood blossomed across the front of his outfit like a sanguine rose in fast-motion, then dripping like a small child cupped their hands full of runny red paint and placed their palms against a vertical canvas, spreading across Wiccan's dark costume like an aggressive and crimson mold.

Tommy hadn't been there when the shot rang out—he'd been on the other side of the city, because their enemies were _everywhere. _

He ran up just as Billy hit the ground, rushing over to kneel at his brother's side to gage the severity of the wound, face darkening like a thundercloud, and he glanced up to see Teddy running towards them stricken with fear, and the speedster sped over to intercept him, practically shouting, _"There's no way for you to help him, Ted! He needs emergency surgery! You punish the guys who did this and I'll take care of Billy!" _

He pushed Teddy away and then ran to the closest hospital, collecting a briefcase full of surgery supplies and running back—he didn't dare move Billy, and no human doctor, no matter how skilled, would be able to help the witch when the bullet that fucking close to his heart, they just wouldn't be _fast _enough, and Tommy had seen that the emergency room had no vacancy as it was, but there were extra tools, there were _always _more tools, and Tommy had witnessed enough vivisections and surgeries that he was pretty sure he knew what to do.

His hands were a blur as he wielded the scalpel with unerring accuracy, extracting the bullet and sewing things up all between two of Billy's gasping breaths—all he had to do was keep Billy _alive, _and Billy would be able to use his magic to heal any lasting damage later—and as he set the tools down with hands covered in his twin's blood, he begged, _"Pleaseplease__**please**__letthathaveworkedIbetternothavefuckedupBillypullthroughthisPLEASEIneversaypleaselookwhatyou'vedoneyoufuckingidiotLIVE."_

He tried to check Billy's pulse, tried to check his breathing, but Tommy was a speedster and all he felt was the gap between beats, the pause between breaths, and he would never be able to tell if either stuttered or slowed and the battle was raging all around them still and _theyweren'tsafehere _and the bullet was out of Billy's chest and the wound was sutured together so it was probably okay to move him just _carefulcarefuldon'tjostlehimTommy _he thought desperately as he gently cradled his twin in his arms and ran as smoothly as was mutantly possible to Wolverine's school for mutants (far far away from the battle and _safe_theywouldsurelydotheirutmosttokeepBillyalive) and set Billy on one of the surgery tables (ignoringtheshiverscrawlinguphisspineathatcoldcoldmetalallthewhite_thattable) _and found Doctor Henry McCoy and (damnbuthewas_heavy) _dropped him off in the room, quickly scribbling a note that read, in Tommy's fast and tilted and scrawling cursive script: _make sure he's okay! did the best I could emergency surgery first time didn't have much time help keep him stable alive can't tell_

And then Tommy ran back to the battle because there was nothing more he could do but help Teddy beat the shit outta the fuckers who'd _killedtriedtokillalmostkilled _Billy.

"Where's Billy?!" Teddy demanded.

"Assafeashe'sgonnaget! _Iwanttokillthesebastardssobadlyrightnowstopmedon'thateme!"_

* * *

><p>As soon as the battle was over Tommy raced to the school for mutants kids and burst into the infirmary, saying,<em>"IsBillyokay?!" <em>in a stressed whisper.

"He's stable," Hank said, glancing up from where he was checking some medical equipment. "Whoever performed the emergency surgery did a phenomenal job." Hank cast the speedster a glance that looked maybe like it was confused/suspecting/curious/suspicious/disturbed/impressed. "Vital scans of his body show that he never had time to go into shock, and he didn't lose as much blood as I would have expected from such a severe wound. And the surgery was clean and very professional."

Tommy collapsed against a cabinet in relief. "IhopeI_never_havetodosomethinglikethat_ever_again."

"I gave him something to numb the pain and keep him unconscious," Hank continued, and Tommy could have cursed himself because _he'dneverhadpainkillersorbeensedatednotsincethefirsttimewhenitdidn'tworksoof__**course**__he'dforgetthat. _

"Thanks," Tommy rasped out through a throat that threatened to close up around the word because _hedidn'tthankpeople__**ever**__hejustdidn't. _

Before Hank could form an answer to that—probably a "no need to thank me" or something similar and stupid because _whycouldn'tpeopleeverjustacceptthethankssinceitwassodamnhardtogive?!—_Tommy leapt to his feet with a quiet: "Well! I better go let Teddy know that his boyfriend is alive and okay before he freaks out and goes Angry Skrull/Kree on everyone!" and then zoomed off.

Hank stared at where the speedster had been standing, brow creased, mouth pulled into a frown.

* * *

><p>A few days later and Billy was walking around good as new (with a little help from his magic) and sporting a new scar that he was eagerly showing off to anyone who was interested.<p>

* * *

><p>"Tommy," Billy said, coming up next to his twin, who was rather furiously doing the dishes, constantly dropping things and grabbing them out of the air before they could hit the ground and break. "I know it was you who saved me."<p>

"It wasn't me," Tommy said immediately, drops of water and soap spraying everywhere as he worked. "You're crazy."

"You can't lie to me, Tommy." Billy wiped some dish water off his face. "I'm your soul twin."

"I can lie to you if I want to!" A plate was dunked in the soapy water particularly aggressively.

"How did you know how to perform that surgery?"

Tommy glanced at him, then shrugged and went back to sponging the outside and inside of a water glass. "Did a speed-read of the book 'Emergency Surgery for Dummies.'"

Billy stared at him in a way that made it clear he didn't believe Tommy one bit.

"Look, it doesn't matter the how or the why," Tommy said, making a gesture with a fork in his hand and accidentally sending it flying across the room, dashing after it and grabbing it out of the air, returning to the sink and cleaning the metal so viciously it squeaked. "You're _alive. _That's all that matters. Now," Tommy stuffed a sponge into Billy's hand, "help me do the fucking dishes, will you?"

* * *

><p>The next week saw Tommy diagnosing Steve with a concussion and ordering to take it easy. Sometime later he'd had to set Clint's broken arm. Then he'd had to help Spider Woman with a deep laceration that managed to cut into a major artery. Then he'd had to inject a rampaging Wolverine with hypodermic needle full of enough tranquilizer to kill an elephant. Next he'd helped Tony with a broken nose. After that he'd had to remove a bullet from Spiderman's shoulder.<p>

"I'mgoingtoneedtostartcarryingafuckingfirstaidkiteverywhere," Tommy grumbled to himself, tightening the bandage around Peter's shoulder, making sure the pressure was enough to stem the bleeding but not enough to cut the circulation.

"Wow, Tommy, you're really good at this," Peter remarked, staring at his bandaged shoulder as the speedster finished up. "Have you ever thought about maybe interning at a hospital?"

Tommy blanched. "No way." He shook his head vehemently. "I fucking _hate _hospitals. And doctors."

Peter gave him a queer look, raising a brown eyebrow. "Then how—?"

"I read some medical books once. I have a good memory. "

"That doesn't explain how you're able to keep such a cool head under the pressure," Peter said, considering him.

Tommy laughed tightly. "Are you fucking kidding? I'm _freaking out _right now!" He began cleaning up the medical supplies. "Try to take it easy on the superheroing for a few days and not tear open the wound, okay? Go eat something, it will help raise your blood sugar after all the blood loss. Remember to keep hydrated and get enough sleep! And all that other advice that you're probably not going to listen to but I feel obliged to tell you anyway!"

"Sure thing, Doctor Speed!" Peter saluted with his uninjured arm.

"_Don't _call me that!" Tommy snapped, eyes flashing, face darkening, voice lowering. "I swear, call me that _ever _again and the next time you get injured I _won't_ help. I'll just watch and laugh and point and crack the worst jokes I can think of while you bleed out in front of me."

Then Tommy smirked at Peter's alarmed expression and waved a hand that was covered in Peter's blood before running off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I read an AU on another website where Tommy was a trauma surgeon. I thought it actually worked pretty well for his character, so I wanted to explore that, and then I figured that in Juvie, with the 'experimental surgeries,' and the injuries that were inflicted on him that the doctors probably had to then fix so they didn't killed him, and stuff that have kind of become part of my headcannon of what happened to him (because we all love a character with an especially tortured soul), and my headcannon about him having a fantastic memory, I figured it wouldn't be unreasonable for him to have picked up some of that stuff. And then also he can speed-read, which means that any medical thing he doesn't know it wouldn't take him too long to learn about. <strong>

**Oh and I obviously know nothing about surgeries or taking care of injuries, but hopefully I kept things vague enough that I didn't actually manage to get anything _wrong _lol. **


	70. Dead

**Dead (Tell Them My Capillaries Burst of Boredom)**

"Is he _dead?" _Teddy asked, coming into the room to see Tommy sitting stiffly on the couch with his eyes blank and cold and staring straight ahead while Billy tied a black tie around his neck.

They were both wearing black tuxedos, dress pants, socks, dress shoes, and ties, with a white collared dress shirt, but while the formal wear made Billy look dashing, accenting his dark hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes and making the deep brown of his eyes stand out while his skin seemed to glow, the same outfit on Tommy just managed to make the speedster look, well... dead.

The intense black and white of the formal attire made Tommy's skin look paler than usual, his white hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes making him look practically albino in the circumstances, especially since the green of his eyes appeared washed out.

Not to mention that he was holding himself with a corpselike stiffness, and the clothes were so formal and decidedly _not Tommy _that if you knew him well, you would be pretty damn sure that Tommy would _never _wear formal black tie dress unless he was dead and being buried.

All he needed was some fake blood dripping from the corner of his lips and he would make an utterly convincing vampire.

"He's not dead, he only looks that way," Billy said honestly, straightening Tommy's tie.

"I _am _dead," Tommy intoned as he continued to stare straight ahead in that unnerving seemingly-unblinking way of his. "Please. Tell everyone I can't attend the stupid event. 'Cuz I'm dead. Tell them my capillaries burst of boredom. Tell them I hemorrhaged. Tell them I'm all nailed into my casket. Tell them I'm already six feet under. I don't care. But I'm _not going." _

"Yes, you are," Billy said, taking a comb from off the couch beside him and pulling it back through Tommy's hair several times, then grabbing a dispenser of hair gel and smearing the clear substances over his hands, before smearing the gel over Tommy's hair. Then he combed the speedster's white locks back again. "Kate expects us to be there. You wouldn't want to disappoint Kate, would you?"

"She can't be disappointed in me if I'm dead, now can she?"

"I can't believe I'm telling you this, Tommy," Billy said, smirking slightly, "but: _stop whining." _

Tommy's currently-strangely-achromatic eyes flicked to his twin's face as he said earnestly, "I'm going to die. My capillaries are _actually _going to burst of boredom at this event and I am _actually _going to hemorrhage, and none of you have the medical expertise to save me."

Billy rolled his eyes exasperatedly, finishing with Tommy's hair before turning to his boyfriend. He raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. "Teddy, why aren't you dressed yet?"

"Uh..." Teddy glanced down at the t-shirt and shorts he was wearing, then back at his boyfriend, giving a simper and saying, "I was hoping you would help me out?"

Sighing, Billy made a hand motion, using his magic to dress the Kree-Skrull in formal black tie garb. Teddy also managed to make the tux look truly debonair, his broad shoulders filling the tux out nicely, the white and black showing off his tan skin, blond hair, and blue eyes.

"Come here," Billy ordered, gesturing with the comb for Teddy to come sit on the couch. "I need to fix up your hair."

"You're not going to comb my bangs back, are you?" Teddy asked rather warily as he sat down.

"Yes," Billy said, proceeding to attack Teddy's blond tresses with the comb and hair gel, smoothing his bangs back and away from his forehead.

Teddy sighed heavily, and Tommy gave a breathy snicker that made him sound just as dead as he looked.

* * *

><p>"Man, is Tommy <em>dead?" <em>Kate asked with a smirk as she swayed gracefully over to them in dangerously high highheels and a black dress the hugged her fantastic figure, raising her eyebrows at the cadaverous-looking speedster.

"I'm not dead, I only dress this way," Tommy said stiffly.

Kate laughed. "Well, I'm glad you were all able to make it," she smiled, holding up a half-filled wine glass in acknowledgment. "I think I would end up killing myself from boredom if you hadn't." She narrowed her eyes at Tommy, asking, "Why are you so pale?"

"Blood loss," Tommy said with a perfectly straight face. "My capillaries have already burst from boredom. I'm suffering from hypovolemia. Please pardon me if I exsanguinate sometime during the party."

Kate looked at Billy and Teddy for an explanation.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think he got bitten by a vampire," Billy admitted.

"I don't know," Teddy said, putting a hand against the side of Tommy's neck, grinning slightly, "he's awfully warm for a vampire."

Tommy sent him a frigid glare. "Take your hand off me or I'm gonna bite you."

"Come on, boys," Kate said with a roll of her eyes, putting her arms around twins' shoulders and starting to lead them towards the beverage table, Teddy being pulled along by his boyfriend. "Let's get Mr. Vampire here a Bloody Mary and see how many of my dad's rich friends we can freak out."

"Um, Kate?" Billy said, lifting a dark eyebrow. "We're kind of under age, you know."

"Way to go, Billy, ruin what little opportunity there is at this party for some enjoyment," Tommy grumbled, even though he knew that Billy knew that he couldn't even get drunk anyway.

"Aww, I forget how young you boys are sometimes," Kate said with a small laugh. "We'll get him a Virgin Mary, then. Oh, and look who else is here!"

David, also dressed in a tux, which wonderfully showed off the warm brown color of skin, turned to greet them as they approached.

"Man," David said, widening his eyes slightly behind his glasses as his gaze landed on the corpselike speedster, "if I didn't know better, I'd ask if Tommy was dead."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Kudos to anyone who recognizes the song I kept borrowing lyrics from ;3<strong>


	71. Mental Instability

**Mental Instability (prone to insanity)**

Fighting with Nightmare was _never _fun. _Ever. _For anyone.

But there needed to be a rule that Maximoffs should be banned from any conflicts where Nightmare was involved. And not just banned, they probably needed to be _protected. _Because their psyches seemed to be especially susceptible, and when in emotional trauma they went _insane_.

Wanda's powers had gone _nuts _and she'd fallen into a coma.

Pietro had run away so fast that he'd _completely _disappeared—it was speculated by the geniuses on the team that Pietro had vibrated into the future, and would eventually come back. Probably when Wanda woke up, because they had some kind of crazy connection.

Magneto had gone on a murderous rampage, the goal of which seemed to be to destroy every single mutant hate group that existed, had ever existed, and would ever exist. He was currently being detained in a special cell made of some superstrong material that didn't have a single iota of metal in it.

Billy was curled into a ball on the ground, arms tight around his legs, rocking back and forth, eyes fixed in a thousand-yard-stare, blue sparks scintillating across his skin and pooling in his eyes. He was also currently being detained in a cell, but nobody knew how much it would actually do to help if Billy lost control of the magic he was clearly struggling to reign in. He was making a disturbing keening noise in his throat, and had essentially bitten through his lip, bright scarlet blood dripping over his chin and down his neck.

Tommy was vibrating and blurring around all over the place, in and out of the locked cell, yelling at supersonic speeds and never ceasing long enough for anybody to talk to him and try to calm him down. If he lingered in an area too long things would randomly start to blow up around him. Which meant that nobody was _trying _to keep him in one place. He kept showing up briefly with leaves in his hair from plants that were native to other continents. Or else he showed up dripping with water, or frosted in snow, or coated gray with volcanic ash.

Teddy didn't know what to do. _Nobody _knew what to do. However, the responsibility to get the twins calmed down had basically fallen to Teddy, while the other Avengers pursued Nightmare to get him to undo whatever he'd done.

_Everybody _had been affected by the nightmare bomb, and everyone had recovered—except for the Maximoffs.

Billy was completely unresponsive, and the sparks of magic seared Teddy's skin when he tried to touch the witch.

Tommy was freaking out. Things kept blowing up. Dirt and puddles and foreign leaves were being tracked all around Billy's cell.

A piece of ripped paper fell in front of Teddy's face.

_I don/t feel very stable _was written in Tommy's scrawling excuse of handwriting. _Billy doesn/t look very stable_

Understatement of the century.

Something needed to be done, but nothing Teddy tried to do seemed to be working.

Tommy would disappear, and then he'd be back and he'd be a green and silver blur that was _everywhere, _and then he'd disappear again, and there'd be tracks of melted rubber on the floor and walls and ceiling.

Billy just sat there rocking and emitting eerie blue sparks.

There was no way to catch Tommy, no way to do anything for him. So Teddy focused his attention on Billy. Maybe if he could get through to Billy, Billy would be able to get through to Tommy.

Teddy tried talking to Billy. He tried caressing Billy's face, ignoring the fierce burn of his boyfriend's magic against his own skin. He tried pulling Billy into an embrace. He tried kissing Billy's lips.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

_Teddy didn't know what to do_. He didn't even know exactly what had _happened _to them. He didn't understand exactly what they'd experienced that would do this to them—Teddy had been affected by the nightmare bomb, too, and yeah, it was bad, it was... _traumatizing, _even, but...

Teddy looked into Billy's eyes, those chocolate brown eyes that were currently glowing blue like something deadly and radioactive, and _staring right through him without seeing him_, staring fit to tear a hole in the fabric of reality.

This is what Teddy got for loving someone who came from a family genetically prone to mental instability.

Magneto had been insane in the past. Wanda had gone insane more than once. Pietro had had periods of insanity. All three of them ended up destroying people's lives. Their emotions and their powers got out of control.

All five of the Maximoffs were hors de combat due to Nightmare's attack. All of them were currently in positions to harm themselves and/or others.

Maybe they were all just too _powerful. _Too powerful and too _delicate, _too easily _imbalanced. _They held themselves like adamantium but shattered like glass. Stood like pyramids but toppled like jenga towers with half their pieces removed. Hovered high like stars and then fell like atom bombs.

Teddy was head over heels in love with a weapon of mass destruction, who was the twin of a weapon of mass destruction, who were both the sons of a weapon of mass destruction, who also had a twin who was a weapon of mass destruction, whose father was a weapon of mass destruction.

But then, Teddy was half a race of warrior scientist aliens pushing a military and technological agenda across the known universe, and half a race of reptilian shapeshifters from the Andromeda Galaxy that torment all they encounter—and to make matters worse, the two races were mortal enemies and hated each other's guts. Plus they've been fighting each other for universal supremacy for generations. So he had no right to blame Billy's family for being insane when his family was even _more _insane. At least the Maximoffs weren't constantly trying to kill each other and take over the galaxy...

Teddy wrapped Billy in his arms, speaking soft, comforting wounds, ignoring the pain and the scent of his own burning flesh—thank his Skrull heritage for his healing factor, and his Kree heritage for his strength—murmuring into Billy's ear, "I'm here, Bee. You're gonna pull through this. I know you will. I believe in you. I love you, Bee. I love you."

"T-Teddy?" Billy gasped out, his eyes blind with brilliant blue. "T-Tommy?"

"It's Teddy," the Kree-Skrull said. "I'm Teddy. I'm right here. I've got you."

"Tommy?" Billy asked, shifting slightly, entire eyes a neon blue so that it was impossible to tell whether his eyes were shifting in their sockets or not. "Wh-where?"

Teddy resisted the urge to bite his lip. "Tommy's not here. Well, he's here sometimes, but mostly he's running around. He's freaking out."

"_Where?" _

"I don't know, Bee. Somewhere."

"Ok-k-kay?" Billy was stuttering through grit teeth, still biting his lip, and the sight of the blood trickling down his neck made Teddy's heart twist in painful ways.

"No, Tommy's not okay. Neither are you. But you're gonna be okay. Got it? You need to pull yourself together and be okay. I can help you."

And then Billy reached up a hand and closed it around air, and suddenly Tommy was there, arm in Billy's grasp, panting, eyes wide like a trapped animal, and he was stammering something at Billy in incomprehensible speeds, and Billy just said, "I know, Tommy," and he was no longer biting his lip, and then Tommy collapsed over Billy's lap, and Billy was sitting in Teddy's lap, and Teddy was holding two mentally unstable superpowered mutants who were now likely both going to be near the top of the Avengers' Potential Threats List.

"It's okay," Teddy said, holding his boyfriend and his boyfriend's brother closer. "You're okay."

Billy nodded, looking more like he was trying to convince himself than like he actually agreed. "It was only a nightmare. Right? Just a nightmare. _I'mnotgoingtoenduplikemymotherI'mnotgoingto._"

"Ifucking_hate_nightmares," Tommy said, sprawled over Billy and Teddy's legs and shaking, but nothing had blown up yet. "AtleastthisonehadafacecanIgopunchit? Ithinkthatwouldmakemefeelbetter."

Teddy breathed out a large sigh of relief.

"Heyhowcomeitwasjustusandourmomanduncleandgrandfatherthatwentcrazyhuh?"

"Mental problems must be genetic," Billy said, trying for a weak smile, glistening red blood on his lower lip and blue sparks behind his teeth.

"Yay," Tommy said sarcastically, hands crawling up over his face. "I've never felt more like a genuine Maximoff. Welcome to the family, right?!"

"If it makes you feel better, my family is worse," Teddy offered.

Billy looked at him—actually _at _him, and the warm shade of those chocolate eyes had Teddy's heart soaring like it had grown wings and was beating around his chest.

"Wow," Billy said, "you might be right, actually. Although," he hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head, black locks drifting into his face, "I'm not sure if that actually makes me feel better." He smirked, and it would have been the most beautiful thing ever had the lower half of his face not been covered in blood. "I kind of liked the idea of having the craziest family."

Teddy could have kissed him right there and then—only, Tommy interrupted the moment with: "I think I might have accidentally blown up the Eiffel Tower."

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><p><strong>AN: Because you know that the Maximoff family has mental problems.<br>**


	72. Succorance

**AN: Tommy tries to keep from having a mental breakdown.  
><strong>

**(And I just had to start a piece of writing with the following clichéd first line. I just had to.)  
><strong>

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><p><span><strong>Succorance (a moment of weakness)<strong>

It was a dark and stormy night.

It was a dark and stormy night and Billy was lying in bed with his eyes half open, half-asleep, staring up into the dark void of space that his ceiling was hiding in, listening to the rhythmic pattering of the rain against the windows.

It was a dark and stormy night and there was a rapid knocking on Billy's bedroom rainbow that was definitely not rain.

Billy sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the curtains draped in front of the glass.

The knocking hadn't stopped.

Fully awake now, Billy relaxed as he realized what the sound was, and swinging his legs out of bed he drew aside the curtains, and, sure enough, Tommy was perched on his windowsill, fist poised a centimeter from the glass, offering the most sheepish and strained grin Billy had ever seen the speedster give.

Tommy was wearing his orange goggles and green and silver Speed outfit, and he was soaking wet, white hair limp and plastered to his head, lean body perched there on the windowsill like a disgruntled wet cat that had gotten locked outside in the rain. If he had a tail, it would have been twitching behind him in agitation.

Billy hurriedly opened the window, letting the saturated speedster in. "Tommy!" he said. "What are you doing here?!"

Tommy unfolded his lanky body and slipped into Billy's room, closing the window behind him, every movement controlled and deliberate and what looked to be painfully slow.

"Tommy?" Billy asked, shock shifting quickly into worry.

Tommy raised a hand to brush limp and dripping wet locks out of his face and then removed his goggles, lifting them to rest on his head. There were raindrops on his face like sweat and tears. He grinned without humor. "Hey, bro. Sorry to bother you." Green eyes flicked to the glowing red numbers of the digital clock on Billy's bedside table. "A bit late for social visits, isn't it?" His words were so deliberate that his voice was shaking, and his entire body was vibrating.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked, eyes now wide and alert with apprehension.

"Nothing," Tommy said, glancing away, hand carding swiftly through his wet tresses. "Nothing, I—" his voice caught. "I—I don't—don't feel—stable—I—I dunno—I shouldnt've come—shouldn'tve bothered you—"

Tommy nearly jumped out of his skintight Speed suit when Billy placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No no!," Billy said, "I'm glad you came! Seriously," and Tommy winced and then glanced at him and then let out a shuddering sigh of relief and then tensed up and glanced away, all in about the space of two seconds.

"C'mere," Billy said, taking Tommy's warm hand and pulling him to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the closet and handing it to Tommy. "You need to dry yourself off. What were you doing out on a night like this? You could catch something."

Tommy laughed dryly and shoved the towel back at Billy. "I'm fast enough I could catch _anything—_but I don't get sick. Disease can't keep up with my immune system. And seriously, keep the towel, I think I'd just blow it up."

Billy hugged the towel to his chest and frowned at his brother. "Seriously? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Tommy said, shaking his head frenetically. Droplets of water shot from his hair. "Noth—I—ng."

"Tommy, I can't help you if you don't let me!" Billy said, somewhat frustrated. "I _want _to help you."

Tommy looked at him. A wry little grin flickered on his lips. "I—I don't—don't really _want_ help," he admitted, tilting his head back slightly to laugh without mirth, a hand dashing up to wipe at his eyes. "I just—" he glanced at his concerned twin, tilting his head almost curiously, "—it's nice to know that you _would—_or at least, that_—_that you would _try." _

Billy shot out a hand. "Don't ru—"

But Tommy was already gone, to the sound of the window opening, a brief loudening of the rain's roar and the wind's yowling, and then the dulling after the resounding _click _of the window closing again.

"—n away," Billy finished, heaving a sigh and leaning against the bathroom counter, hand carding through his black hair in frustration. "Don't run away _again, _Tommy," he said, talking to himself and the cold, dark bathroom around him, the resonance of his own voice that sounded kind of like the voice of his twin. "It's _okay _to seek out affectionate care and social support, Tommy. Nobody sees it as weakness except for _you." _


	73. Reality

**AN: This one's about Billy. Emotional fallout from the events of _YOUNG AVENGERS (2013)._ Yay for Billy angst!**

**Recommended soundtrack for this chapter is the song "Circles" by ****KDrew. **

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><p><span><strong>Reality (is so fragile help me)<strong>

Billy was shuddering with gross sobs, huddled in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around his legs, head bent down and resting on his knees, breathing like there was a hole in his lungs.

"Billy?" Tommy asked, kneeling next to his brother, expression pulled in concern and confusion.

"_Tommy," _Billy said, head shooting up, brown eyes wide as his gaze met his brother's, and he suddenly threw himself into the speedster's arms. "T-Tommy..."

"Dude!" Tommy said, getting knocked backwards onto his rump, his brother a disgusting sobbing mess against him. "Chill out!" He patted the mage on the back awkwardly, expression completely lost. "What the hell's_ up?"_

"Oh gods, Tommy..." Billy sobbed, clenching his fists in the back of the speedster's shirt, head tucked against Tommy's shirt collar right where neck blended into shoulder. "I-I... c-can't..." Bill drew a shuddering gasp. "I _can't..." _

"Um, _what _can I do for you, bro?" Tommy asked, looking like he'd rather to be _anywhere _but sitting on the hard floor with his hysterical twin in his lap. "You _know _I'm no good at this comforting shit. Why don't you go find Teddy?"

"Teddy doesn't understand," Billy mumbled into the speedster's shirt. "Teddy _can't _understand. H-he..." Billy hiccuped. "He's so _perfect..." _

"Yeah, and I'm not," Tommy said, running his fingers through Billy's soft, dark hair, only because he needed to be constantly _moving _and it was either muss with his brother's hair or rub circles into his brother's back, and he was _no _good at comforting, so the second option was out. Besides, Billy's hair was fun to play with. "I got that."

"Teddy, he—he tries to understand, oh gods he _tries, _but..." Billy's entire body shuddered with the force of his sobbing. "_Tommy, _you _know... _you..." fist clenched tighter in the speedster's shirt, "when it feels like you're going to _explode..." _

"...Yeah," Tommy said, focusing on messing up Billy's perfectly-combed hair. "I know what that feels like."

"Reality's so _fragile, _it... it—" Billy lifted his head from Tommy's shoulder to stare straight into his face, brown eyes wide and desperate, begging, "Tommy, _help me." _

Tommy blinked back. "Um, _how?" _he asked, sounding skeptic.

"I... I just," Billy tucked his head back against Tommy's shoulder, shivering, "I just f-feel _numb _most of the time. I _c-can't..." _

"Your eloquence rivals my own," Tommy remarked wryly, doing his best to make the back of Billy's head look like a cowlick.

Billy's sobs stuttered into a chuckle. "I just... you... you know what's it's like, when..." Billy shuddered, "when your powers just make you feel so... so... like you're going to _break _everything...?" the end trailed off into a question, like he was starting to doubt how true that was; like he was _afraid _that he was the only one who ever felt that way or something.

Tommy rolled his eyes. If there was _anything _for Billy to doubt about him, it should _not _be _that. _"Dude, I know."

"It's just..." Billy's arms tightened around the speedster's chest, "_gods,_ Tommy, I try so hard not to _want _anything. I try to... my wants, they—they manifest themselves and... and what if I do it and I don't _know _it?" Billy was _sobbing. _And it was really, really _gross. _"I mean, I don't think that's what _Teddy_ is, but... reality is _malleable, _it's like... it's so thin and breakable and it _shimmers..." _Billy hiccuped and choked on his sobs. "Tommy, sometimes I just watch it _shimmer _and it... it just—I just reach out to touch it and it _bends_ and _ripples_ and I'm afraid one day it's going to _break _it's so _fragile_... and sometimes it just feels so _fake _compared to what's inside my _head, _and I..." Billy let out a quivering breath, "_demiurge." _

"I didn't understand any of that," Tommy said honestly, fingers carding through midnight locks, "but keep talking."

A shaky, watery laugh. "Tommy, _I_ _was the demiurge. _For a moment, and... all the universes, spread out beneath my feet, and everything so _small _and _cute _and the fabric of reality was like _tissue paper_, and it was so pretty in a way where you just want to fold origami cranes out of it or _something, _like... Tommy," Billy leaned back to stare at his twin's face, smiling tremulously and reaching out to brush white sidebangs out of green eyes, saying, "I'm a singular multidimensional _messiah._ I'm going to grow up to r_ewrite the rules of magic _and reshape all realities that have _ever been_ and are _ever going to be. _Reality bends to my _will _and it's so fragile I think I'm gonna _break_ _it."_

Tears were pooling in Billy's red-rimmed brown (not blue) eyes, catching the light and glimmering. "And there's all these _circles _and _kaleidoscopes _of—of _universes _and _realities _and they're all just as _real _as the next, and—spiderwebs, and if you break one strand, others start fluttering about, and—_spiderwebs—_the designs and the patterns are all so... so _pretty, _in such... ways that are just _morbid_, and..." he collapsed forward against the speedster's chest, hands tangling in his own hair and clenching there, shuddering and sobbing and soaking Tommy's shirt. He whimpered. "T-_Tommy, _my _head..." _

Tommy looked slightly terrified by all the emotion. "...I don't know what to say, bro," he managed, wrapping one arm around Billy while removing the mage's hands from his hair with the other, because if Billy ripped out his hair then Tommy would have nothing to occupy his hands.

"I just..." Billy wiped at his runny nose and sniffled, "I try not to _think _about it, 'cause I _freak out_ like this, and... and when I _feel _I _freak out, _and I try _not to_, and... and I try not to _want..." _he glanced up to meet his twin's eyes again, saying desperately: "Tommy, _I don't want to become Wanda." _

A muscle in Tommy's cheek twitched the tiniest fraction. "Yeah, and I don't want to become Pietro," he said, blowing some hair out of his face with a puff of breath. "Please don't ever wish _that _into existence."

"I..." Billy laughed slightly, wetly, almost a sob but not quite. _"...Thank you, _Tommy. Thank you, for not... for not just telling me it's going to be _okay, _or that..." he chewed at his lip and glanced down, tracing his fingers across Tommy's arm, the short, soft, achromatic hairs there, "you know..."

"Hey, our lives are what we make of them," Tommy shrugged. "For you more than any of us, I guess. So," he grabbed Billy's hand that was tracing up his arm, getting Billy's attention and holding his gaze seriously as he said, "get yourself together."

"It's..." Billy glanced away, giving a laugh that wasn't a laugh, tears still trailing down his cheeks. "I mean, it's kinda _funny, _I guess... I can change the _world _with a _wish, _but I can't change _myself..." _He shook his head, dark (and now messy) hair falling into his face and sticking to his wet skin. "I wish I was a better person, but it _never _works." He glanced up at his brother again, expression pained as he said, "Tommy, I'm just a seventeen year old _kid! _I dropped out of _high school. _And _I'm _the one who's going to reshape the _multiverse?" _His breathing started picking up again, the tears that had slowed coming faster, hurtling down his cheeks like cars down the declining slope of a rollercoaster track. "Tommy, I... I don't _want _this responsibility... it's so _much..." _

"Yeah, well," Tommy shrugged, hands behind him to prop himself up as he regarded his brother with a tilt of his head, "I didn't want to get cut open and shot fulla shit, but I wouldn't _change _that fact, 'cause I'm _me _and everything that's _wrong_ with me is _right _with me, 'cause it's _me. _And you're _you." _Tommy reached out a hand to poke Billy's nose. "So, you know, be _you_, and shit. And don't lie to yourself." He grabbed Billy's chin and forced the witch to look at him, saying seriously, "You're not scared 'cause you _don't _want this, you're scared 'cause you actually _do _want it."

"You..." Billy blinked at him, mouth working soundlessly for a moment, before he said in shocked disbelief: "_who are you _and what have you done with _Tommy Maximoff?" _

"L-O-L, bro," Tommy said, rolling his eyes and replacing his hand back behind him. "You make it sound like I just said some wise stuff or crap. _Look,"_ he rolled his head back and around to stare at Billy flatly, "I don't _do _advice or feel-good talks, okay? I just call 'em like I see 'em. And I'm your soul twin, so..." he shrugged again. "Fucking soul stuff. You can't _lie _to me, bro. It's like..." He paused, brow creasing as he searched for the words and came up with none.

"Yeah, I know," Bill grinned slightly, shifting himself on Tommy's legs and leaning against the speedster's chest again, taking a large, shuddering breath, letting it out and relaxing slightly.

"Ugh, this is _stupid," _Tommy said, letting himself fall backwards so that he was lying flat on the ground, Billy curling around him in a way that was totally platonic, and would probably be considered by someone like Teddy as absolutely adorable. "Are you _done_ getting my shirt all wet yet?"

"No," Billy said, tears still brimming from his eyes and soaking into the fabric of Tommy's shirt that he was burying his face in, though he wasn't _sobbing _anymore. Just crying silent, calm tears like he couldn't stop. A light but steady rain instead of a palpitating thunderstorm.

"_Fuck_ you're clingy," Tommy groaned, as Billy's arms snaked around his chest.

"If I don't cling then I'll fall," Billy mumbled, pressing his ear over the purring of Tommy's heart. "If I fall then I'll freak out and crash. If I freak out and crash then I'll break something. If I break something then bad things will happen. If bad things happen then I'll become Wanda. If I become Wanda then you'll become Pietro. If you become Pietro then you'll be mad at me. If you're mad at me then I'll freak out. If I freak out then—"

"That logic doesn't make _any _sense, bro," Tommy cut him off, snorting.

Billy lifted his head to blink languidly at him, eyelashes stuck together by tears, forming little triangles. He looked pretty damn miserable, but not as bad as he _had_ looked. Tommy sighed, one arm reaching up behind his head while the fingers of his other hand tapdanced up and down Billy's spine. "...But yeah, okay, I'll take the clingy over the apparent alternative."

"Good," Billy said, settling back against his chest contentedly.

There were a few minutes of silence, and Tommy thought maybe Billy was done talking, but then the mage spoke up with: "So, now that I've unloaded all my angst onto you, you'll be okay doing the same to me, right?"

Tommy raised his head to glance at his brother, who was watching him, expression expectant. Tommy huffed and let his head fall back again. "Keep telling yourself that, reality warper. Maybe it'll come true one of these days if you _wish_ it enough."

He felt Billy settle back down against his chest, and felt him humming some sad song to himself more than heard it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Billy has gotten very good at forcing Tommy into situations where he has to be comforting. I'm pretty sure Billy just kinda brings out the best in everybody. <strong>


	74. Keep Your Kindnesses

**AN: Because Tommy doesn't do feelings...  
><strong>

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><p><span><strong>Keep Your Kindnesses (I can't stand them)<strong>

"Witchy," Tommy greeted his brother as he came into the living room of the Kaplanses'. He nodded at Teddy, greeting: "Shifty."

"Speedy," Billy grinned in reply from where he was perched on Teddy's lap on the couch with a comic book in his hands, opened and held before him so the both of them could read it.

Teddy just raised an eyebrow from where his head was resting on Billy's shoulder. "Shifty?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tommy grinned, giving a casual shrug as he sauntered over to the coffee table, stealing his twin's glass of water and downing it. He wiped a drip of water from the corner of his mouth with the wrist of his sleeve. "Billy's a witch," he gestured at Billy, "thus: Witchy. I'm a speedster," he placed the fingers of a hand against his chest, "thus: Speedy. You're a shapeshifter," he nodded at Teddy, "thus: Shifty."

"But 'shifty' means deceitful!" Teddy protested indignantly.

"You can be deceitful, can't you?" Tommy said, raising a white eyebrow, then gesticulating as he declared, "That's what the acting's for!"

Teddy _hmphed, _but didn't try to deny that fact. "I still don't like that nickname," he said, arms around his boyfriend's stomach.

"What, would prefer 'Shapey'?" Tommy inquired, smirking.

"No!" Teddy's blue eyes widened in comical horror.

"Shapeshifty?" Tommy suggested, setting Billy's now-empty water glass on the table and leaning over to poke Teddy in the shoulder, grinning mockingly.

"No!" Teddy said, indignant.

"Stop picking on my boyfriend, Whitey," Billy said chidingly, batting the speedster's hand away.

Tommy snorted and rolled his eyes as he straightened. "I'm not picking on him, Darkling."

"Darkling?" Teddy asked, raising his blond eyebrows.

"Yeah," Tommy shrugged again. "'Dark' 'cause he's got dark hair, and 'ling' because 'Wiccling,' which even _I _know is your pairing name, and I try desperately to avoid all that stuff. And also because 'darling,' since I've heard you call him that," Tommy made an exaggerated show of pretending to gag, before grinning and concluding, "so it's kinda a parody of that pet name, of sorts."

"But darkling means 'of or relating to growing darkness,'" Teddy pointed out, lips pursing slightly.

Billy's lips pulled to the side and he widened his brown eyes in a _'well, that's not entirely inaccurate' _expression that made Tommy snort in amusement.

"When did _you _read a dictionary, Mister Skrully-Kree?" Tommy said, rolling his eyes.

"Mister _Skrully-Kree?" _Teddy said in indignation.

"Hey, it works better than 'Mister Kree-y-Skrull,'" Tommy grinned and spread his hands. "Or, combine them like a pairing name?" He hummed in thought, tilting his head and smirking. "Are you a _Krull_, then? Or a _Skree, _maybe?"

"Nah," Billy drawled, leaning back against his boyfriend's chest, reaching an arm up above his head to drap around the back of Teddy's neck. "The only nicknames that fit Teddy are 'Ted,' 'Tee,' and 'Teddy Bear.'"

"O'_course _you'd say that, Bill," Tommy rolled his green eyes at the ceiling.

"Oh gods, no!" Billy exclaimed, sitting upright and brown eyes blowing wide, horrified. "_Never _call me Bill! William is better than Bill. And Will is better than Bill. _Never call me Bill." _

"Whoa, Mr. Touchy!" Tommy laughed, taking a step back and raising his hands.

"_I'm _Mister Touchy?" Billy asked skeptically, regarding his brother with a raised brow. "_I'm _not the one who threatens to blow people up when they call me by my legal last name."

"Yeah, but your legal last name isn't _Shepherd,"_ Tommy pointed out, as if 'Shepherd' was a bad word that obviously _everybody _would know is an insult.

Billy's eyes narrowed. "Well then, _Thomas—"_

"_Don't _call me Thomas!" Tommy snapped, whirling on his brother furiously.

Billy raised an eyebrow, leaning back against Teddy again and crossing his arms across his chest. "How about _Tom, _then?"

"_Never_ call me Tom!"

"See?!" Billy smirked smugly. "_Now _who's being touchy?"

"_Hmph,"_ Tommy said, looking away from his brother to instead fix his gaze on the alien being sat on by the mage. "How about you, Theodore? You bothered by being called that?"

"Not especially," Teddy said with a gracefully languid shrug. "I do prefer to be called Teddy, though."

"Theo?" Tommy tried.

"Meh," Teddy said, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Dorrek VIII?"

"Okay," Teddy said, narrowing his blue eyes, "_please _don't call me _that." _

Tommy's eyes lit up and he grinned like he'd just discovered Wolverine's hidden beer stash, and was going to empty them out and fill them with rubbing alcohol again. "Officer of the imperial Kree militia!"

"_No," _Teddy growled.

"Savior and Great Unifier of the Skrulls!" Tommy suggested, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ecstatic.

"_No." _

"'Savior of the Skrulls' and 'Kree Imperial Officer'—those are going to be my new nicknames for you!" Tommy declared, dancing around the couch to flick Teddy in the back of the neck.

"_Hey,_ I don't call you 'Shepherd,'" Teddy pointed out resentfully.

"Well, no," Tommy agreed, still gleeful, "'Cause I'd blow you up. And I _would,_ too—you're part Skrull, you'll heal _eventually." _He came back around to the front of the couch, swaggering. "Also, there are many ways to bother me that I _won't _blow you up for. But _this_ is the first way I've found to actually get on your nerves," he said with a grin, "aside from cockblocking you and Billy. Which never gets old, but _still. _You are _so _hard to annoy."

"Yeah, _you're _easy to annoy," Billy said to his brother, lips quirking slightly. He tilted his head to say to his boyfriend, in an almost confidential tone: "all you need to do to bother _Tommy_ is be _kind _to him. It freaks him out."

"What?" Tommy said, green eyes wide. "It does _not." _

"Here, Tommy," Billy said suddenly, getting up off Teddy's lap and crossing over to the speedster, doing something to the back of his shirt, then stepping back, smiling slightly, "your shirt tag was sticking out."

Tommy gave him a confused look. "I don't _care _if my shirt tag's sticking out!"

Billy shrugged.

Standing up, Teddy came over to them, running a hand through Tommy's white locks, which had grown out a few inches so that the longer hair in front was now brushed the edge of his jaw, saying, "You need a hair cut. Do you want me to cut it for you? I cut Billy's hair."

"He's very good at it," Billy nodded. "Doesn't pull or anything."

"Uh, no," Tommy said, pulling away from the shapeshifter and brushing his hair back from his face. "No thank you. Totally unneeded."

"Your hair's getting long," Teddy pointed out, raising his brows. "Doesn't it get into your mouth?"

"Dude, I'll take care of it myself," Tommy said, waving a hand flippantly and turning away to start fiddling with a metal doodad—one of those brain games that you were supposed to try to untangle—that had been left on a table.

"Suit yourself," Teddy said with a shrug. "But if you ever need someone to give you a hair cut, I'd be more than happy to do it."

"Fuck you," Tommy said, not even glancing at him, untangling and retangling the metal puzzle.

"See?" Billy turned to Teddy, gesturing at the speedster, saying, "The nicer you are to him, the meaner he gets and the more he starts cursing you. Nice people make him nervous."

"I do _not _get nervous," Tommy said, whipping his head around to glare at his brother.

"Of course not," Teddy said, humoring him, before putting a hand on Billy's shoulder. "You know," he said, "Billy and I were thinking of going out for pizza. Do you wanna come with us?" He smiled at the speedster. "I'm buying."

"Go out with you two on one of your icky dates?" Tommy snorted, turning away, picking up a pen and twiddling in between his fingers, so fast it was a blur. "No _way." _

"We're just getting pizza," Teddy said honestly. He grinned, saying teasingly, "And we promise to keep it PG. PG-13 at the very grossest."

"We know you love pizza, Tommy," Billy added, when the speedster didn't respond. "And we're going to that place that serves the best pizza in New York. You know, the one that I can't pronounce the name of."

"Nuh-uh." Tommy shook his head, white hair whipping back and forth around his head. "You're just trying to be really nice to me now to get me to go away and leave you alone. And it's working. But you guys have to be the ones to leave, 'cause I'm staying in this room."

"No, we're not," Billy said. "Seriously. We just want to hang out with you." He walked over to Tommy, wrapping his arms around the speedster's waist from behind and resting his chin on Tommy's shoulder, grinning. "You know, 'cause you're my soul twin."

"If you don't want pizza, we can go somewhere else," Teddy offered. "What about shawarma?"

"Dudes, go wherever you want!" Tommy said irritably, wrenching himself out of Billy's grasp and zooming to the other side of the room, perching himself on a table and crossing his arms. "I'm _not_ going."

"Aren't you hungry, though?" Teddy asked. He grinned slightly." I know you have to eat even more than _I _do to sustain that metabolism of yours. And I have to eat a _lot." _

"I've got food at my apartment," Tommy shrugged, now on the other side of the room and playing with the window blinds, closing them and opening them, the room lightening and darkening as he blocked and unblocked the sunlight filtering through the glass. "And I can always raid the communal fridge at the Mansion. Or the Tower."

"Why won't you come with us?" Billy asked as he frowned slightly, question completely honest. "Sometimes it feels like you're trying to avoid us."

"Because sometimes I _am," _Tommy shot back, tiring of playing with the blinds and zipping over to a cup that held various pens and pencils, which he tossed out of the cup and began moving around in the air—not really juggling, more like racing gravity, his hands blurring as he grabbed the falling writing utensils that were lowest and lifted them back up to the top of the falling pile, repeating this over and over, the dozens of pens and pencils shifting around in the air in front of them.

"Tommy," Billy said, watching the blur that was Tommy's hands. "You know we care about you, right?"

"Ugh, you're both _sickening," _Tommy groaned, grabbing the pens out of the air and sticking them back in the cup, shoving the cup back onto the table. "I'm leaving. Go out on your pizza date. Have fun and all that jazz." He shoved the cup a little too hard, and it tottered and teetered then fell over and rolled right off the table, and Tommy had to dash over and catch it before it hit the floor, shoving the writing untensils back in and setting the mug back onto the table, more carefully this time.

"It would be more fun if you'd come with us, bro," Billy said earnestly.

"I sincerely doubt that," Tommy huffed, waving a hand flippantly as he strode out of the room. "Good_bye _Bill and Dorrek VIII._" _There was an audible _fwoosh_ as he zoomed off, the absence of the noise of a door slamming indicating that he'd just vibrated right through it.

"...See?" Billy said, turning to his boyfriend with a pained expression. "How _sad _is that that makes him uncomfortable? We weren't even being all _that _nice. Like," he gestured wordlessly for a moment, "we weren't being _overly-nice_ or anything. That was just _normal_-nice. And he _still _ran off."

"I know," Teddy said, wrapping an arm around Billy's shoulders, starting to head for the door. "Come on. Let's go get that pizza. We can save him some slices." He grabbed his jacket from the coathanger by the door, slipping it on and offering his boyfriend a smile. "Or maybe order an entire extra pizza to bring back for him."


	75. Give Me Your Anger and Your Hatred

**AN: In which Teddy isn't perfect *gasp***

* * *

><p><span><strong>Give Me Your Anger and Your Hatred (I can take it)<strong>

Wiccan had been abducted, and Hulkling was raging.

"We _have_ to go after Billy!" he said, whirling on Captain America, green face dark with fury, his size seeming to be increasing by the second.

"We will," Steve said, "but not right this instant. We need to regroup and form a new plan—"

"WE NEED TO RESCUE BILLY!" Teddy roared, hands clenched into fists at his sides, muscles huge and bulging, his mouth practically foaming. "RIGHT! NOW!"

Any man lesser than Captain America would have crapped his pants at the alien's livid anger.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly he was being pushed away from the Kree-Skrull's direct line of sight by a green and silver hand on his chest.

"Don't worry, Cap, I got this," Speed smirked at him, all swagger and confidence. "The Angry Hulkling situation is under control."

And then Tommy turned back to Teddy, now directly in the line of fire of the alien's full fury.

"Dude, you need to chill," Tommy said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes behind orange goggles.

"HOW COULD YOU LET BILLY GET TAKEN?" Teddy roared at him, stalking right up into the speedster's face. "WHY WEREN'T YOU WATCHING HIM?"

"Seriously, Ted, you snails are all the _same," _Tommy said, rolling his eyes. He didn't flinch even when Teddy looked about read to punch him. "Don't you ever take the time to realize that you're actually mad at _yourself _and not at me? I mean seriously, how long does it _take _you to come to that conclusion? Also, you _know _that you know that Cap is right."

"You _traitor," _Teddy snarled. "You should be on _my _side. You're Billy's _spiritual twin!" _

"Yeah, and you're Billy's boyfriend, and you couldn't protect him either," Tommy said, raising his chin defiantly.

The Avengers watching were starting to think that Tommy was downright suicidal.

Only, suddenly Tommy was there in front of _them, _saying, "Geez,guys,ifyoufindthissointerestingthenyoushouldjustgowatchagoddamnsoapopera! I'm keeping Teddy outofyourway, you startyour regrouping-and-forming-a-plan thing!"

And then he was back in front of Teddy in time to get the Kree-Skrull's full roar of "DON'T YOU EVEN _CARE _ABOUT BILLY?!"

"Yes," Tommy said. "We all do. Don't think that you're the only one who cares about Billy just because you're the one who fucks him."

Teddy _roared, _before calming himself down just enough to growl, "No, I don't think that you do care about Billy. You hate him, you always turn away from his every attempt to reach out to you, you're resentful of the fact that he has love and family and everything that you _don't_ have and you know that you _never will! _You're a _sociopath! _And you wonder why nobody likes you?!"

Tommy looked strangely calm and relaxed. "It's nice to hear you finally admit that, and that you actually do agree with everyone else in my life who has told me that I'm a complete failure of a person. Maybe I should introduce you to my parents, you'd have lots to talk about on that front. You can all get together to take all your anger out on me for everything that has ever gone wrong in your lives."

Teddy opened his mouth, then stopped, staring down at the speedster as slowly a look of guilt crossed over his features. "Oh god, Tommy, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," Tommy shrugged. "It's fine. Give me all your anger and your hatred—I can take it." He grinned. "Trust me, it's better than your pity. Honestly, I preferred it when you were yelling at me about being a sociopath over that godawful _pitying _look you're giving me right now." He narrowed his eyes at Teddy's expression, glaring slightly, saying almost defiantly, "Maybe I _am _just as much of a fuck-up as everyone says."

"You're not," Teddy said, covering his face with his hands and seeming to shrink in on himself—and given that he was a shapeshifter, he probably actually _was _making himself smaller. "You're not, Tommy, you're really not. I didn't _mean _any of that. I really didn't. I think Billy brings out the best in me, and... he's not here... I just want him _back, _and I'm angry at him getting taken and you're _right,_ I _am _angry at myself for letting him get caught, and I was talking without thinking, and..." he looked at the speedster through his fingers,"Tommy, Billy loves you—_I _love you—"

"Dude," Tommy said, raising a hand, looking suddenly affronted, "stop. Stop right there. I'm fine with you shouting furiously at me—but this mushy thing? It will _not _be tolerated."

Teddy frowned at him. "That kind of thing really isn't healthy. I think maybe you need to talk to somebody."

"Why don't you go back to being angry about Billy getting kidnapped and telling me how it's _all my fault _and I'm an _awful person _and a _failure _and how _nobody likes me_," Tommy retorted facetiously.

Teddy blanched. "Oh _god, _Tommy, I _didn't mean any of that—" _

"You sure _sounded_ like you did," Tommy retorted, gaze hard.

Teddy opened his mouth to say something, guilt and shame and pain scrawled across his features, but he was interrupted by Hawkguy, who was striding purposefully towards them.

"Oh, good, you calmed Teddy down," Clint called with a grin, glancing between the speedster and the alien who no longer looked as if he was about to rip everybody's limbs off. Clint jerked his thumb back at the other adults, saying, "I was chosen as the representative to let you know that we think we have a plan that will probably work. Or something along those lines. How would you like to beat up the guys who took Wiccan?"

"Nothing would please me more," Teddy stated, voice lowered menacingly as he wiped at his eyes, then immediately turned and stalked towards the Avengers.

"Man, how didja _do_ that?" Clint asked Tommy, indicating Hulkling and his now-controlled anger. "I thought he was gonna go total _Hulk_ on us."

Tommy shrugged. "A little bit of the guilt trick and little bit of reverse psychology kinda thing. Only works if the angry person is willing to do a little self-reflection, though." He shrugged again. "Good thing Teddy is better than most humans. Usually that kind of thing doesn't work, and people just get defensive and even more violent."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, glancing after the green alien. "Good thing Teddy's Teddy. And not, y'know, Bruce Banner or someone. You would'a been _smashed." _

Tommy snorted, smirking slightly, green eyes laughing. "As if the Hulk could actually _hit _me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: We all get angry and say things without thinking that we don't mean. Teddy is no different. <strong>

**And I'm guessing that Tommy has had a _lot _of experience dealing with people directing their fury at him. I figured this is a situation that he's used to and actually _knows _how to deal with. **


	76. Fix You

**AN: In which Billy tries to fix what happened in the previous chapter, Teddy feels absolutely wretched, and Tommy gets flustered.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Fix You (face it we love you)<strong>

Once Billy was rescued and he and Teddy had returned to the Kaplanses' house, Teddy crushed Billy into a passionate kiss.

"I was _so worried _about you," Teddy said, when they split apart for air, the both of them gasping slightly.

Billy laughed breathlessly, running a hand back through his dark bangs. "I'm perfectly fine, Ted! It wasn't that bad, really, they just wanted to exploit my powers for their evil purposes, but you got to me before they could hurt me or anything."

Teddy pulled the mage into an embrace, tucking his head against Billy's neck. "But I was _worried. _I didn't know what they were going to do to you, and I assumed the worst and I... I was _angry _and I said some things to Tommy that I _really _shouldn't have... Billy, I really _messed up." _

Billy pulled back slightly, a frown tugging on his lips as he brushed the blond hair out of his boyfriend's eyes. "What did you say to Tommy?"

Teddy couldn't meet Billy's eyes as he told him.

For a moment there was just stunned silence, and then Billy said, "You _said _that to him? _Seriously?!" _

"I-I tried to apologize," Teddy said, looking tortured with guilt, slumping down onto the couch, "but I think—I think maybe the damage is already done..." he looked up at Billy with teary eyes. "I didn't _mean _it. I was just so _angry_, and Tommy... I mean, the worst part was just how _unfazed _Tommy was, like he wasn't even _surprised, _like what I said was what he'd been suspecting all along... I mean, he obviously needs help, and then I just had to go and making a problem _worse..." _Teddy looked utterly inconsolable.

Billy put a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, expression serious. "Sit tight, Ted. I'm gonna fix this."

A murmur and a flash of blue and Billy was gone, and Teddy let his face fall into his hands.

* * *

><p>"Tommy."<p>

Tommy looked up from watching his water glass fill to see Billy appear in his apartment, looking determined about something.

Tommy's eyes widened and he held up his hands. "YesIwastheonewhotorethepageofthatBatmancomicbookitwasanaccidentIturnedthepagetoofast!"

"That's not what I'm—" Billy started, then paused, brow crinkling slightly. "Wait, you tore the page of one of my batman comics? What were you reading my comics for?"

"Iwasreallyboredokay?" Tommy said, turning off the tap and sitting down on the kitchen counter, bringing the water glass to his lips and taking a deep swig, before wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "AlsofortherecordBatmanisawesomerthanSuperman. Supermansucks."

"Look, I'm not here about my comic book, I don't care if you ripped it," Billy said, coming to stand directly in front of his twin. "I'm here about what Teddy said to you earlier today."

Tommy's green eyes widened marginally. "Oh," he said, before waving a hand, glancing away as he said, "don't worry about it, bro. I know he didn't mean it—I've heard those kinds of things enough to know when people _really _mean it, seriously, I don't mind angry outbursts I mean my feelings aren't hurt or anythi—"

And then he stopped abruptly because Billy had suddenly leaned into his personal space and pressed his lips lightly against Tommy's forehead.

"—ng did you just _kiss _me?!" Tommy asked, looking absolutely confounded. He actually dropped his water glass in surprise.

In answer, Billy kissed him again, this time on the cheek, before grinning at his brother's stunned expression and saying, "I don't think you get nearly enough kisses, Tommy."

Tommy blinked, then darted his hand out to catch his water glass before it fell past the edge of the counter. "Kiss me again and I'll stab you with a fork," he warned.

Billy just smirked at him.

"Please tell me you hate me now so I can feel justified in drop-kicking you off the balcony," Tommy added, almost desperately.

Billy leaned forward and placed a small, chaste kiss on the speedster's temple, saying, "I love you, Tommy. I couldn't ask for a better twin."

Tommy was stuck frozen for a few moments as Billy snaked his arms around his chest, hugging him, before Tommy jerked violently away, practically falling off the counter, spilling his water all over his jeans in the process. "Okay _okay,_ I get it, alright?!" he said, "You're an idiot and you love me! Now can you just _leave _already?" Tommy turned away from him, swaggering out of the room and waving a hand behind him."I'm betting your boyfriend needs more comforting than I do. You can tell him that I forgive him and not to dwell on it, just _go, _because I'm going on a run and I don't trust you alone in my apartment. If you're here when I come back I _will _defenestrate you."

And then the front door slammed loudly.

* * *

><p>When Billy teleported back to his house, he found Teddy curled up on the couch in an insecure position that was entirely unlike him.<p>

"How did it go?" Teddy asked, glancing at Billy from beneath his blond bangs, consciously removing his teeth from their worrying of his lower lip.

Billy flopped down on the couch beside him, beginning to rub circles into the shapeshifter's back. "Tommy's okay—or, you know, as okay as he gets. He knows you didn't mean it and he forgives you—if he was ever mad at you in the first place. He's still uncomfortable with care and affection and I think he actually kind of enjoyed your misdirected hatred—which doesn't excuse you of what you said, but... you know. I kissed him and told him I loved him and then he ran away."

Teddy chuckled wetly. "Yeah, that sounds like Tommy."


	77. Pest Control

**Pest Control (the curse of having a power that's so blasted versatile)**

_I._

Tommy was sitting at the table in one of the Avengers mandatory monthly meetings where they discussed stuff that bored him, slumped in his chair, watching a fly move in rectangular patterns in the air, agonizingly slowly. It was also making an incessant low buzzing sound, a drawling _zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz _that grated his nerves just enough to help him drown out the current argument between Tony and Steve—one of the ones that went in circles and never really got anywhere, and seemed just to be more routine habit than anything else.

_Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz _went the fly, moving around in frantic squares above Billy's head, Tommy's eyes following its movements lazily.

Billy looked incredibly frustrated and kept glaring at the fly. Every now and then, when it got too close, the witch would swipe at it, but the fly easily evaded Billy's slow and lumbering attempts.

Logan was also glaring at the fly from the opposite end of the table—enhanced hearing, the buzzing was probably driving him nuts.

Of course, Tommy thought, Logan also looked like he'd rather sit there and be angry at the fly then sit there and listen to Steve and Tony argue about protocols.

After yet another failed attempt at swatting the fly, Billy's eyes scanned the Avengers members seated around the table, landing on the speedster sitting across from him with a desperate look.

"_Please get rid of the goddamn fly," _he mouthed.

"_And get rid of my only entertainment?" _Tommy mouthed back, rolling his eyes. Not that it was _much _entertainment, but...

"_PLEASE," _Billy mouthed.

"_Fine," _Tommy mouthed back, giving an exaggerated (but silent) sigh, then folding his legs up onto his chair and standing up, stepping onto the table and zipping over to the fly, plucking the ridiculously slow insect out of the air.

He could have crushed it between his fingers, but that was a little too gross for him at the moment—why have bug guts all over your fingers when you didn't need to?

So instead, holding the fly, he dashed across the top of the table to where Steve and Tony had now risen from their seats to yell at each other, and placed the fly on Tony's nose, then closed the Iron Man faceplate—because, yes, Tony was all suited up at the meeting. (Why? Who cared. If there was a reason, Tommy hadn't been listening. And Tony was kinda crazy anyway, so he didn't need a reason. Also, the armor was actually _part _of him now, built into his body, so, who knew, maybe Tony had simply forgotten to put some actual clothes on and had arrived to the meeting in his underwear—that had happened before, actually—so had simply suited up, because. You know. Suit.)

Then Tommy skimmed back over the table to slide back into his seat, sitting back to watch the entertainment as Tony gave a shout at the fly buzzing around inside his closed mask, and started hopping around and slapping at his metal mask, much to the confusion and/or amusement of everybody else. Steve's expression was priceless.

Tony finally managed to open his faceplate despite the distraction of the fly buzzing in his face, and the fly tumbled out, only to be shot in the air by one of Tony's repulsor blasts.

Billy gave Tommy an exasperated—but amused—look, mouthing, _"That is NOT what I meant." _

"Hey, I couldn't have been the _only _one who was sick and tired of mummy and daddy arguing," Tommy said aloud, shrugging, as all the Avengers in the room turned to either glare at him, stare at him disbelievingly, or chuckle in amused approval.

Tony and Steve both started rebuking him—at the same time, talking over each other.

Billy groaned into his hands. "I just wanted him to get rid of the stupid fly," he told the room. "It was _distracting." _

Tommy just grinned, declaring rather triumphantly, "Nothing ends a fight between two opposed parties like a mutual threat! That's how the Avengers started, Billy claims."

Captain America and Iron Man stopped talking abruptly.

"Argumentative KO!" Spiderman called.

"Yeah," Tommy agreed, chin propped up on his hand, smirking, "you're both acting like a couple'a kids. And I mean, I'm always one for a good fight, but can you stop fighting _each other_ and focus on fighting the _bad guys_ now instead?"

"Or the flies," Billy said, narrowing his eyes at another fly that had entered the room. "Does anybody want to get that fly before Tommy gets it and sticks it behind someone's mask?"

There was a sudden mad rush to get the fly, and Tommy laughed, standing on the table and holding the fly between two fingers. "Too slow, suckers!"

* * *

><p><em>II.<em>

"AAAAHH!"

Tommy glanced up from where he was lounging on the couch in the Kaplanses' living room, texting Kate because she'd forbidden him from running over to L.A. to visit her—something about needing time to herself to figure some personal stuff out—to see what one of Billy's younger brothers was freaking out about.

"SPIDER!" the boy shrieked, standing on a chair and gesturing at the arachnid that was skuttling across the wall.

"I got it!" the other younger Kaplan brother shouted, coming from the kitchen with a hard plastic cup, trying to slam it over the spider—only, he wasn't very tall, and the spider moved rather quickly out of his reach.

The other boy was still shrieking, and Tommy groaned, covering his ears. "It's just a _spider, _geez."

"I can't reach it," the one boy was saying, jumping up and banging the plastic cup against the wall below the spider.

Tommy sighed, getting to his feet and zipping over, taking the cup from the boy's hands, running over to the recycling to grab a piece of scrap paper, then dashing back, saying, "I'll get it, just quiet your brother will you?" and then he ran up the wall, kneeling there for a millisecond, defying gravity as he scooped the spider into the cup and placed the paper over the top.

He dashed back down and shoved the cub into the hands of the shrieking boy standing on the chair, saying, "Here's your harmless spider that has you so freaked out. Face your fears and go put it outside."

The boy shrieked, nearly toppling the chair over in his haste to get away from the spider in the clear plastic cup. He tried to leave the room, but Tommy was standing in the doorway.

"I'll put the spider outside!" the other young Kaplan boy said cheerfully.

"No, I think your brother can do it," Tommy said, looking at the young boy trembling in front of him. "What are you scared of? It's just a spider. You could step on it and squash it."

The boy shook his head, lip trembling, looking at the spider in terror.

"Look," Tommy said, holding the cup so the boy could get a better look at the dark spider with its eight sprawling legs. "It's just a spider. It's just a creature that's a lot smaller than you, and has more legs than you. The spider isn't at fault for your fear. You are."

The boy glanced at the speedster's face, frowning slightly.

"The spider isn't scaring you," Tommy told the boy. "_You _are the one that's _making yourself _scared of the spider." He held out the plastic cup, hand over the paper over its top. "But that's okay, because we all fear things. But we can't be brave if we don't fear. So why don't you prove to yourself how brave you are and go put this spider outside?"

"You can't—you can't just kill it?" the boy asked, looking up at him with a pinched brow.

"There's no justification in killing out of fear," Tommy told him seriously. "Killing out of real danger is different—but this spider hasn't done anything to harm you. It's just living its spider life. Killing it out of fear is kind of like humans killing mutants out of fear. You don't have to kill everything that scares you or that you don't understand. You're better than that."

The young boy bit his lip, staring at the spider.

"I'll do it!" the other child offered again, bouncing next to his brother.

"You can be brave," Tommy told the boy who was still staring at the spider with wide and frightened eyes.

"No, I'll—" the boy said, shaking his head at his brother, "I'll do it."

And he reached out and took the cup with the spider, turning and marching towards the door, which his brother opened for him, tipping the cup over to let the spider fall into the plants.

Then he ran inside and shut the door.

"See?" Tommy grinned, patting the young boy on the head. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? Don't you feel better now? I think you're a little bit older and braver than you were a few minutes ago."

The boy took deep breaths, and slowly a small smile graced his features as he glanced up at the tall, white-haired speedster.

"Yeah," the child said, giggling slightly. "I think so." He grinned at Tommy, before running off with his brother.

"You know," came Billy's voice, and Tommy turned to see the witch standing there against the wall of the hallway, smiling, pleased and sounding slightly smug as he continued, "you're really good with them. And that was quite the advice."

Tommy flipped him off. "Doesn't mean they're not still annoying brats. And 'sides, fear is just a limitation we place on yourselves. You gotta break those boundaries, man, push yourself outta your comfort zone and grow up a little."

* * *

><p><em>III.<em>

Tommy was running across the Pacific Ocean when his phone started ringing.

"Yes Billy?" he asked, stopping on a random, tiny uncharted island.

"_Tommy I need you here!" _came Billy's voice, sounding desperate. _"Dude there's like a cockroach _infestation_ here and they're so damn _fast!"

"'Fast' relatively speaking, of course," Tommy said, snorting. "Where's 'here?'"

"_You know Teddy moved out into that apartment?" _

"Yeah yeah, I'll be right there." Tommy hung up and sprinted to New York.

"Pest Control here!" he declared as he vibrated into the apartment in question, to find Billy and Teddy in the kitchen, Billy sitting on the counter while Teddy tried to get the cockroaches to leave by using a trail of breadcrumbs out the door.

Tommy groaned. "You guys are _hopeless. _Seriously, Billy, why don't you just magic them away?"

Billy crossed his arms, glaring at Tommy, saying, "I don't used my magic to kill things." At Tommy's flat look, he added, "It's bad karma."

"And stomping on them isn't?" Tommy asked, punctuating this my stepping on a cockroach that sped by in front of him.

"Magic is different," Bill said as Tommy easily stepped on yet another wickedly-fast cockroach. "Magic is all about karma and energies and—"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," Tommy rolled his eyes, stomping on another cockroach and grumbling, "I am going to _ruin _the bottoms of these shoes. I'm going to have to run a few thousands miles to get all the roach guts off. And why isn't _Teddy _killing the roaches?"

Teddy came into the kitchen, having either finished or run into a complication with his breadcrumb trail, and frowned at Tommy. "I don't believe in killing."

"_Teddy,"_ Tommy groaned, stepping on another one of the cockroaches, "these are _cockroaches. _They're _pests. _They don't _count." _

"You wanna tell Noh-Varr that?" Teddy asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sure the Kree would help me kill these cockroaches," Tommy snorted, stepping leisurely on another one that zipped across the floor. "Why don't you text him and invite him over?"

"He's part cockroach," Teddy supplied.

"So?" Tommy shrugged. _Stomp. Stomp. _More icky roach guts on the floor and the soles of his shoes. "I'm sure that means he's even better equipped to stomp on them. He has a degree of superspeed, right? And I mean, even if I stomp on all the roaches here, that's not gonna keep more from coming back. You need something like _magic _for that. This is _New York**, **_after all. Cockroaches kinda come with the superheroes in terms of infestations that are impossible to get rid of."

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. _

Tommy glanced at the bottom of one of his shoes, pulling a face, before slamming the foot down on yet another roach that skittered across the floor. "Ugh these things are huge and disgusting! Why am I the only one killing these things?! And _why _did I run halfway around the world to kill these things for you again?!"

"Because you're the best soul twin ever?" Billy suggested, simpering.

Tommy snorted as he stepped on another roach. "You're damn right I am."


	78. Perpetual Motion

**Perpetual Motion (I sleep better when I'm moving)**

Billy was driving through New York, having just recently gotten his learner's permit—yes, he was over seventeen and a half and he'd only just gotten his learner's permit—but he was also kind of breaking the law (woops) because he was driving alone, without the supervision of someone 21 or older.

Until suddenly the passenger door slammed and he wasn't alone in the car anymore. Though this person wasn't 21 or older either.

"Hey Billy!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the shotgun headrest, leaning his cheek against the side as he grinned at his brother. "What the hell are you driving for? You can teleport _and _you can fly!"

Billy flicked his eyes over to glare at his brother, before quickly turning his attention back to the road. "Because I want the practice. Also, because flying and teleporting are rather conspicuous, and sometimes it's nice to act like a normal person."

"Pffft," Tommy waved a hand flippantly. "Who needs _normal?_ Being a superhero is better."

"It's exhausting being Wiccan _all the time," _Billy said, sighing, crinkling his nose as he honked at a car that had just pulled rudely in front of him. "Sometimes I just wanna be _Billy, _you know?"

"No," Tommy said, snorting. "You say that like Billy and Wiccan are two different people."

"They kinda are," Billy said, pulling to a stop at a red light.

"Tommy and Speed aren't," Tommy shrugged. He glared at the traffic light. "I fucking _hate _traffic lights. And stop signs. And yield signs. They suck."

Billy rolled his eyes. "That's why you don't drive, you just run everywhere. Speaking of," he looked over at his brother, "why _are _you here?"

Tommy grinned lazily at him, pushing away from the seat in front of him to lean against the door, lifting his legs onto the rest of the seat cushion, sprawling out to fill the entire passenger section. "That depends. Where are you going?"

Billy put his foot on the gas pedal and started the car forward with an uneven jolt as the light turned green. "Oh, just around, really... I just wanna drive. It's fun."

"Well, in that case," Tommy slid down so his head was resting against the seat, his long legs bending as his feet hit the opposite door of the car, "I think I'll just take a nap back here, if you don't mind."

"I thought you hated cars," Billy said from the front.

"I do," Tommy said, closing his eyes, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest. "When I'm awake. But they're nice to sleep in when they're turned on. I like the vibrations from the engine. Not as good as the vibrations of the Blackbird's engines, but still, better than my bed. I sleep better when I'm moving. Clint's a bad plane driver. He almost crashed the jet last time I snuck on board. He's better at boats."

"You know that _I_ might crash, right?" Billy said, turning a hard right down another crazy New York street, car horns blaring around them. "I'm still pretty new at this driving thing. That's why I wanted to drive alone."

"You can crash, it's fine by me," Tommy said, chuckling slightly, eyes still closed. "I'll survive. It would be like you napping in a little red wagon and getting dumped out at like two miles an hour. Nice and relaxing. I might even sleep through it. Just promise not to let them take me to the hospital, alright?"

"...Your faith in me is _so _reassuring," Billy drawled sarcastically.

He didn't receive an answer—Tommy had already fallen asleep to the soft vibrations of the vehicle around him.


	79. Hostage Situations Suck

**AN: This one's weird.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Hostage Situations Suck (and I could really use a haircut)<strong>

"This _sucks," _Tommy groaned, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall behind him, arms stretched up above his head, manacled there. His feet were manacled, too, but at least they were still on the floor and he wasn't _completely _chained up on the wall or something.

Also, the dungeon cell he was in—because he was in an actual fucking _dungeon, _in an actually fucking _castle, _and how clichéd was _that?—_was equipped with a power dampener, and while it wasn't strong enough to slow down the speed of his mind, it _did _prevent him from vibrating his way free.

So, he had to wait to be rescued. Yay.

He glanced around the cold, gloomy stone cell, the metal door, the absolutely _nothing interesting anywhere. _Geez, you'd think there'd at least be some _torture instruments _or something, right?

So now he just had to wait. And wait. And wait. For _however long _it took the good ol' Avengers to find them.

Because, oh yeah, Billy and Teddy were here with him. Go figure, right? And Teddy couldn't shapeshift (stupid power dampeners), and Billy couldn't be magical (damn fucking power dampeners), so, you know.

"This does suck," Teddy agreed, from where he was manacled to the wall a few feet away, and given their positions it made it rather hard for them to see each other.

Tommy tried anyway. "But I suppose it could be worse, right? I mean, _Billy _could be chained to the wall, too."

They both glanced over at Billy, who was in a crumpled heap on the floor, a bump on his head from where'd been hit but that wasn't really visible beneath his hair. He just had a manacle around a single ankle, which was chained to a ring sticking out of the floor.

Of course, Billy was probably only chained like that because there'd only been two spots for people to be manacled to the walls, but still. Better that the speedster and shapeshifter be in that position than Billy.

"And hey," Tommy added, "maybe they'll get so tired of waiting to beat us up that they'll torture us before Billy wakes up, and he won't have to see it."

"The Avengers will break us out before we get tortured," Teddy said in assurance.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Tommy said, and he would have shrugged, had his arms not been chained above his head. "They don't seem to make busting mutant testing facilities a priori—_fuck _I am _so _bored. Why aren't there like rats to watch or anything? Aren't castle dungeons supposed to have ra—oh hey! A spider!" Tommy looked up at the arachnid on the ceiling above him. "C'mon, spider! Build a web or something! I am _so _bored I would literally watch you spin a web."

He heard Teddy snort from beside him. "Tommy, you're hopeless."

"I am _not!" _Tommy said, trying to glare around his arm at the alien. "I have hope! The Avengers _will _find us, I know that, they just won't do it very _quickly. _Especially not since we—aha! A moth! C'mon, get eaten by the spider!"

Teddy groaned. "Oh my _god, _Tommy."

"Hey, you gotta take what entertainment you can get in prison," Tommy said. "Cue shrug."

There was a groan from the floor, and Billy opened in eyes, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing at his head. "What _happened?" _

"We've been captured by evil dudes," Tommy said brightly. "Teddy and I were taking bets on how long it takes the Avengers to come get us. What do you think?"

Billy blinked at him, frowning. "Whaaat?"

"Oh man, you're not concussed, are you?" Tommy asked, as Billy's eyes started to slide shut again, and Teddy was saying, "Billy! Billy, keep your eyes on me, okay? You need to stay awake."

And then the cell door opened, and several guys in yellow beekeeper suits came in, shutting the door behind them with a loud, ringing metallic _claaaaang. _

"Dudes," Tommy greeted. "You guys look utterly _ridiculous _in those suits. And yellow is _really _not your color. Any of you. Hey, why does D.U.N.C.E. or whatever you call your organization even _have _a castle?"

He really was fantastic at pissing evil people off, he thought to himself wryly as a bolt of electricity from a taser gun ripped through him.

* * *

><p>"Man," Tommy was saying later, after the beehive dudes had left, "I should really have taken you up on that offer of a haircut the other day, Ted." He tried to shake the hair out of his face, only for it to fall back and get into his mouth. He spat it out. "Ugh, it's all in my <em>face <em>and my _eyes _and my _mouth." _

"Tommy, you were just tased like _twenty-five _times, and it's your _hair _that's bothering you?" Billy asked from where he was sitting on the ground as close to them as the chain around his ankle would allow—which was still several feet away—and his voice cracked slightly.

"Cue shrug," Tommy said. "Getting tased isn't that bad. But _ick _I'm like _eating _my hair right now this is _gross _and _ridiculous." _

Billy made a little noise in his throat and leaned back against the wall, covering his face in his hands. "C'mon, why aren't the Avengers _here_ yet?"

"Cue shrug," Tommy said.

"Would you stop _saying_ that?" Billy groaned.

"Cue shrug," Tommy said again.

"Stop shrugging, shrugger!" Teddy called from beside him, startling a little laugh out of Billy.

"I liked that movie," the mage said, removing his fingers from over his face, giving a weak smile.

"Me too," Teddy grinned.

"Whatever movie this was, I didn't see it and I don't get the joke!" Tommy declared. "I am _so _bored. You know what, why don't you just tell me like everything that happened in this movie? I am _that _bored."

* * *

><p>The Avengers saved them a few days later.<p>

"I need a haircut!" Tommy declared as soon as Pietro zipped into the cell with Wanda in his arms. "And a shower! Hostage situations _suck. _What did they _want, _anyway? They wouldn't tell us. There just like: 'We're keeping you here to barter for some secret info or tech from Tony Stark' or something like that," and then he had to stop talking to spit hair out of his mouth.

The three of them were quickly unchained, and for a moment Teddy and Billy just stared at Tommy—neither of them had been in positions to see his face for the entire time they'd been captured.

"Tommy, your hair is _really _long," Billy said, brown eyes wide.

"Well, yeah," Tommy grinned slightly, running a hand through his now-shoulder-length white hair, and his nails—

"Tommy, your nails!" Teddy said, blue eyes widening even more than Billy's—Tommy sometimes suspected that Teddy unconsciously used his shapeshifting ability to make his eyes larger.

Tommy laughed, waving his fingers at them, the nails of which now extended past his fingers by about a centimeter. "Oh, the glories of having a superspeed metabolism! I heal fast from the beatings, but my hair and nails grow really fast too! Drives people who try to shave your hair off and try to keep you from keeping weapons on you nuts!"

"You know," Teddy said, tilting his head as he regarded the speedster, "you don't look half-bad with long hair."

"Those _nails _though," Billy shuddered—and then he shrieked, because Tommy had zipped over to scrabble his nails along the back of Billy's neck.

"C'mon!" Tommy said, zipping out of the cell, peeking around the door frame at them and saying, "the faster we get outta this stupid castle and get back to the mansion, the sooner we take showers and _cut these crazy nails and hair of mine!" _

* * *

><p>Tommy zipped into the quinjet, sitting himself down in the copilot seat, folding his hands behind his head. "Heya Clint!" he greeted the pilot.<p>

Clint started and glanced over at him, opening his mouth to say something, but then starting and saying instead: "What happened to your _hair?" _

"I _know right?!" _Tommy sighed, waving a hand exasperatedly—and showing off his wickedly long nails as he did so. "Hostage situations _suck." _

Clint yelped and nearly fell out of his chair to avoid the nails that zipped way too close to his face, and Tommy snickered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And then Tommy gets a haircut and all the fangirls are happy again. Yay!<strong>

**I just wanted to put Tommy in a situation where he couldn't tend to his hair and nails, because I wanted to explore the What-If of this, just for fun. And then Billy and Teddy invited themselves along, because they weren't going to let Tommy get his stupid ass captured alone. **

**Tried to keep things not too bad and pretty non-angsty because basically the entire point of this chapter was the rather humorous mental image of Tommy with long hair and nails.**

**But then, we did get to see the facetious way Tommy deals with some bad situational stuff, too. Double bonus! **


	80. Oops

**AN: In which Tommy breaks stuff.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Oops (I didn't mean to break it, seriously)<strong>

_I._

Tommy zipped through the house, trailing a whirling wind in his wake.

The strong gust knocked a ceramic vase of flowers from the Kaplanses' kitchen table.

"Oops!" Tommy said, zipping back into the room when Mrs. Kaplan shrieked at the loud crash of the ceramic, staring at the jagged pieces on the floor lying among a puddle of water and flowers with most of their petals now knocked off. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kaplan! I didn't mean to break it, seriously!" he said, grinning sheepishly and brush a hand over the back of his niveous hair. "It just kinda _fell over _and _shattered._ I didn't even _touch_ it!"

Mrs. Kaplan sighed, but gave him a small smile. "It's alright," she said kindly, "I know it was an accident. Just try to be more careful and not run so fast in the house, alright?"

Having heard the crash from his bedroom, Billy hurried into the kitchen, scanning the room to see his mother going to get a broom, Tommy standing there awkwardly, and a shattered vase of flowers on the floor.

Seeing him, Tommy offered a grin. "It looks like I break things wherever I go, huh? At least I didn't blow it up, though. Remember that time with the UN Building? Now _that _was fun!"

Billy sighed. "Yeah, I'm always cleaning up your messes, Speedy." He turned to his Rebecca, saying, "It's alright, Mom. I'll fix it." His eyes glowed blue as he started chanting a spell to fix the flower vase.

* * *

><p><em>II.<em>

_CRAAAAAAASHHH! CRAAAAAAASHHH! CRAAAAAAASHHH! CRAAAAAAASHHH! _

The Avengers whirled around to see four of the Greek-style pillars supporting the building they were investigating crash to the ground.

"Oops!" Tommy said, appearing in front of the felled pillars, looking down at them, then up at the assembled Avengers, then back to the pillars, then back to the Avengers, blurting, "I didn't mean to break them, seriously! I just grabbed the pillars to help me turn the corners in this maze of a place—I didn't _know_ that they were going to detach from the ceiling and the floor and fall over like that! But hey, look on the bright side—at least they were a faux pillars, so the ceiling isn't crashing down on us!"

The building around them gave an ominous rumble.

"Umm..." Tommy said, glancing around the room warily, before giving the Avengers a grin. "At least, probably not, right?"

The ceiling gave a moan and a crack, and suddenly all the Avengers found themselves outside the building, watching it crumble in on itself.

"Okay, so," Tommy said, watching the building collapse and brushing some white hair out of his eyes, "that may have been my fault."

* * *

><p><em>III.<em>

Tommy was running, a missile tailing him, and he glanced back to make sure it was still there, and then—

_SHHHRRIIEEEEEEKKK! _

He ran straight into something, feeling and hearing metal screaming as it tore, and Tommy was sent tumbling to the ground, rolling and rolling before his momentum slowed enough for him to stagger back to his feet and start running again, too occupied with getting the missile targeted on him to detonate somewhere where it wouldn't hurt anyone to look back at what he'd crashed into.

When he'd successfully disposed of the missile, he sprinted back to the scene of the battle to find that it had been finished up, and now the Avengers were gathered around the Blackbird, staring at it and the fact that one wing was completely torn off from the rest of the jet.

"Oops! " Tommy said, scratching at his head as he looked at the broken plane, saying sheepishly to the other Avengers, "I think that was me that did that."

They all turned to stare at him.

"Speed," Captain America said, in an _are-you-fucking-serious _tone—except, of course, that Steve probably wouldn't use the word 'fucking.' Sometimes he said 'damn' and 'dammit,' but Tommy had never heard the Captain say 'fuck' yet.

"I didn't mean to break off a wing of the Blackbird, seriously!" Tommy said, holding up his hands. "But it was in my way I guess and I was a bit too preoccupied checking on the missile chasing me to look where I was going—but hey!" He grinned, gesticulating. "At least I still managed to recover fast enough to lead the missile away and keep you all from blowing up!"

"Well, I'm very glad t'be alive an' all that," Clint said, glancing at the broken plane that would definitely _not _be flying them back to New York. "But how're we gonna get home?"

"Does anybody have a phone?" Tommy asked, after checking himself, only to realize that he was wearing his skintight Speed outfit which did not have any pockets, and, thus, he didn't have a phone on him. "I can call Billy and ask him to pick us up with his teleporting powers. Or to come over here and fix the plane." Tommy grinned at the adults. "Don't worry, he's used to cleaning up my messes."

* * *

><p><em>IV.<em>

David was already waiting at the cafe when Tommy sped in. He'd been waiting for about ten minutes, now—which was extremely unusual. Nobody ever had to wait for Tommy.

"Oops! I didn't mean to break my promise to be here, seriously!" Tommy said, slipping into the seat across from David, gesturing wildly as he continued, "I meant to be here ten minutes ago, but there were all these _ninjas—"_

"The plural of 'ninja' is 'ninja,' not 'ninjas,'" David pointed out, waving his stirring stick at the speedster. "But here," he added, pushing a large coffee cup across the table to Tommy, "I ordered your coffee for you."

Tommy grinned at him and took a swig, before saying, "So, you knew that I was actually gonna show up, huh?"

"Of course," David said, rolling his eyes at the ceiling just slightly. "I'm a genius, and you're not the kinda guy to bail on coffee, especially not when someone else is buying."

Tommy laughed. "True enough." Then his face got serious again, and he returned to his excuse with: "Well, Mr. Know-It-All, there were all these _ninjas, _and—" he paused for a split second, pursing his lips in thought, "wait, the plural of ninja is _ninja_, really? One ninja, two ninja, a million ninja? Like: one moose, two moose, a million moose?"

"Yeah," David agreed. "Just like that."

"But there's so many other things you could use as plurals!" Tommy protested, waving the hand that wasn't possessively holding his coffee. "Like mooses! Meece! Moosi! Ninjas! Ninjee! Ninji! A herd of moose, a hand of ninja—"

"Actually, it's a 'stealth' of ninja or an 'ambush' of ninja," David corrected, looking vaguely amused.

Tommy rolled his eyes all the way around their sockets, saying, "You are _such_ a pedant, David!"

"Can't help it," David shrugged.

"Seriously though," Tommy said, leaning forward, "I really didn't mean to break my promise and get here late. But, well, you know me," he gave a self-deprecating grin, "I'm always breaking things."

David just stared at him. "Look," he said, placing a palm on the table, "I almost can't believe I'm the one telling you this, but don't worry about it. Even speedsters are allowed to be late sometimes if they get caught up."

"Dude," Tommy glanced at the watch on his left wrist, "you're shift starts in, like, three minutes. The workplace is like a ten minute walk from here for snails like you. You waited too long for me." He glanced at David with narrowed eyes. "What did you wait so long for? Whatever. You need a lift?"

David didn't have time to tell Tommy no, and hardly a moment later he found himself at their workplace, and Tommy was walking away from him, waving over his shoulder and calling, "See you at lunch, man!"

* * *

><p><em>V.<em>

_BOOOOOOOOOM! _

The villain turned to see that his huge machine had been partially combusted, and shouted, "NO!"

There was a kid standing there in silver and green with orange goggles and white hair.

"Oops! I didn't mean to break your Doomsday Device, seriously!" the kid said, glancing between the machine and the villain, a look of feigned surprise on his face. "I was just kinda cold and started shivering," he rubbed his arms for emphasis, "and then part of it just went _boom." _He spread his hands in front of him, moving them a 'boom' motion. "I mean, why do you have a secret base up in the Arctic Circle, this is ridiculous!" He shivered, hugging himself, breath spiraling white from his mouth. "My breath is freezing to my hair!" He brushed the frosted white hair out of his face, adding petulantly, "I think I need another haircut."

"You... you..." the villain stammered, staring in horror at the machine he'd worked so very hard on building, before turning to the kid in absolute fury. "I was going to purify this world!"

"Yeah, sorry," the kid shrugged, not looking apologetic in the least. "Everywhere I go I break stuff. Consider it a secondary mutation."

And then Captain America leapt out and knocked the villain unconscious. He turned to the kid, smiling slightly. "Good work, Speed."


	81. What a Metabolism

**AN: This chapter directly contradicts what I wrote in chapters "Cold" and "Hot" of this story, as well as what I wrote in my Avengers Comics story "Just Another Night." **

**Explanation in the author note at the end of the chapter. **

* * *

><p><span><strong>What a Metabolism (95% energy, only 5% heat)<strong>

"It's cold," Tommy stated, shivering so hard he looked like an image on a staticky television screen. "It's really, _really _fucking cold. I _really fucking hate this." _

"I thought you had a higher metabolism?" Billy said, frowning slightly at his brother, partially concerned and partially confused. "Shouldn't you be able to keep yourself warm?"

"I'm fine as long as I'm constantly _moving," _Tommy said, springing back and forth from foot to foot while rubbing his hands over his arms. "As soon as I stop moving I get really, really cold," he complained, voice whining slightly. "I hate air conditioning. Why is there air conditioning in here? And who _the fuck _turned on the AC _so fucking high? _Or low or whatever. It's like the arctic in here except without the snow. Why can't we leave again? Fuck supervillains and their stupid plans that include stupid things like gassing New York with stupid stuff and fuck Tony Stark for not having more gas masks in this stupid fucking tower of his and fuck him for having us locked in a room with an air filtration system that's out to freeze our asses off."

"It's really not that cold," Teddy said, lounging comfortably in a chair at the table in the room's center, furrowing his brow at the speedster.

"For _you _maybe," Tommy shot back with a glower. "You're a fucking alien."

"I'm not cold either, Tommy," Billy said, perfectly comfortable where he sat in jeans and a t-shirt in the chair next to Teddy.

"You're using your magic," Tommy accused immediately, hopping up and down and waving his arms to get his blood pumping.

"No, I'm not," Billy said, frowning.

Tommy made a whining sound. "It's _really cold," _he said, power-jogging in place. "I feel like I'm locked in one of those walk-in fridges where they store meat or something."

"Dude, we can't even see our breath," Teddy pointed out, blowing out to demonstrate the fact that, sure enough, his breath wasn't condensing in the air.

"_Fuck _this," Tommy blurted, beginning to run in circles around the border of the room. "IneedtomoverightnowrightnowmovemovemoveorI'mgonnafreeze."

* * *

><p>"Tommy, you need to stop running," Billy said, glancing at the floor that the speedster had tracked likely over a thousands times by now.<p>

"Nope! Can't!" Tommy called, his voice seeming to come from everywhere around the room as he kept running in the largest ellipse the rectangular room allowed him. "I'lljustgetcoldagainit'stoocoldinhereIcan'tstopmovingIhavetokeeprunning."

"You're wearing the floor down," Billy said, frowning at the easily visible racetrack now worn an inch into the concrete floor. "Stark's not gonna be happy."

"He'srichhecanreplaceit. Andthat'swhathegetsformakingusstayinhere." Tommy kept running.

* * *

><p>When Tommy finally paused for a moment, Billy wandered over and placed a hand on the speedster's cheek.<p>

"Damn, Tommy, your skin is _cold," _he said, eyes widening at the chilly feel of Tommy's skin beneath his warm hand, despite the fact that Tommy had been running nearly continuously for the couple hours they'd been locked in the room with no news from the Avengers.

"Hellyeahitis," Tommy agreed, jerking away from the touch to start jumping up and down. "_I'mreallycold. _That'swhatI'vebeentryingtotellyou!" Then he started running around the room again, arms pumping strong at his sides as he switched directions from running counterclockwise around the room to running clockwise.

Billy sat down on the edge of the table, and he and his boyfriend watched the white-topped blur that was his twin speeding around the room.

Billy looked slightly depressed. "Teddy," he said, "give me a bright side to this situation."

"Well," Teddy remarked after a few moments, "Tony had enough sense to get us to this room so we aren't poisoned by the adulterated air that's everywhere else. And the air filter in the room is cycling new air through the room fast enough that we're not running out of oxygen at the pace Tommy's using it up."

"Mm," Billy said, tilting his head down just enough to cause his sidebangs to sweep into his eyes.

"Also," Teddy grinned, pulling the witch off the table and into his lap, pressing a kiss to Billy's neck, "we've got nothing better to do in here than make out."

Billy laughed and latched onto the alien's mouth with his own.

And Tommy was apparently too focused on staying warm to take the time to cockblock them.

* * *

><p>"Ohshitthey'reallyfuckingmadatusiftheylockedusuplikethiswhat'stakingthemsolongthehell." Tommy ranted as he ran, taking to tapping the two lovebirds on their shoulders every time he passed them by, which basically meant that they felt like they were constantly being tapped on their shoulders. "I'mreallyhungrywhycan'tweleave?"<p>

"You know why," Billy said, rolling his eyes, arms around Teddy's neck as he nuzzled up against the alien.

"FuckbutIdon'tlikeit! Andit'scoldandI'mhungryandthirstyand_fuck_Ineedajacketorsomethingormysuitwithit'sspeciallining."

"Special what?" Teddy said, frowning as he had trouble catching what the speedster said when he spoke so fast.

"Special lining," Billy translated.

"MysuithasaspecialliningthatreflectsreleasedbodyheatbackatmesoIdon'tgetcold," came Tommy's furthered explanation from everywhere, his presence a constant _taptaptaptap _on their shoulders so fast that as far as their nervous systems could tell was a constant pressure.

Billy blinked at Tommy's words."Wait, your Speed suit has a special lining that reflects your lost body heat back to you? Why do you need that? Do you really get cold so easily?"

"Superspeedcomesatapricebro," came Tommy's voice as he continued to speed around, and the light pressure that had been on Billy's shoulder moved to his head. "Ihaveaweirdmetabolismthatmakesitsoittakesforeverformetofatiguebutitdoesn'tkeepmewarm."

Teddy looked completely lost by the too-fast conversation, but Billy frowned in thought. "How does that work?"

"IdunnoBruceexplaineditbutIdidn'treallyunderstandandhe'snotreallythekindaguyyoucanpesterwithquestions."

Billy considered this for several moments, before his eyes lit up and he rose slightly from Teddy's lap, , "Tommy, please stop running."

"ItoldyouIcan'tit'stoocold!"

Leaning back into his boyfriend, Billy whispered something into the alien's ear, and Teddy nodded, smiling, before lifting Billy from his lap and standing up, stepping into the track that Tommy had worn into the floor—now coated with melted rubber from the speedster's abused shoes.

"Tommy, come here," Teddy said, intercepting Tommy's running and wrapping his arms around the white-haired boy, keeping him there.

"Ooomph!" Tommy grunted on impact.

He suddenly found himself being carried over to the chair and placed on Teddy's lap. And then Billy crawled onto the alien's lap with him, and Teddy shapeshifted himself big enough to accommodate both their bodies on his own, wrapping his arms around both of them. Then Billy was cuddling up against him.

For the first couple seconds Tommy tried desperately to get away. "NofuckingwayI'mnotasnugglypersonnosnugglingohheyyou'reactuallyreallywarmIchangedmymind." And then he was leaning into the radiating body heat from both Teddy and Billy, and letting himself relax slightly as the warmth surrounded him and he could stop shivering. "Anybody who tells a soul about this will have their hair burned off," Tommy warmed, snuggling closer against them as they chuckled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, I'm not very good with science stuff, but I'd originally figured that, because of Tommy's superspeed, he had a high metabolism, and that therefore he should be warmer than an average human, right? <strong>

**But then I took a look at the information provided by the Marvel wiki on Quicksilver's (and thus Speed's) superspeed physiology, and I couldn't make sense of everything so I took it to my physiology teacher to ask him about it. **

**One of the things written under Quicksilver's speed physiology was that: ****"He metabolizes an estimated 95% of the caloric energy content of foodstuffs (normal humans use about 25%)."**

**So, apparently normal humans only metabolize around 25% of the caloric energy they intake because the rest is converted into heat. Therefore, the speedsters having 95% of their caloric energy going to muscle contraction would mean that only 5% is converted into heat, so they'd have a harder time keeping warm and would probably have to keep moving all the time when somewhere cold. And this of course also means that it takes a lot for speedsters to break a sweat, and that they can run through deserts and tropics and such without dropping from heat exhaustion.  
><strong>

**The speedster suits having a special lining - like the material of space blankets - in order to help keep the speedster's warm was my physiology teacher's idea. **

**So, yeah: here's my revised interpretation :) **


	82. Fighter

**Fighter (a survivor, not a victim)**

Yes, Tommy was arrogant. Yes, Tommy was over-confident. Yes, Tommy was a fighter, and no, he never gave up.

Yes, he was a fucked up piece of work, but no, he was not broken. And no, he would not break. No matter what.

He was stronger than that. He was _strong _and he was a _fighter. _

Juvie had taught him that.

He was not a victim of the corrupt system. He was a _survivor _of it.

Yes, what he went through in Juvie still haunted his nightmares some nights. But what happened to him did not ever make him feel _weak _or _helpless _or _degraded. _

Maybe that was the strange thing. Funnily enough, the doctors at Juvie were the first people who'd ever told Tommy that he was worth something to the world—admittedly, that thing was a _living weapon, _but—the doctors at Juvie were the first people who didn't tell him he was a failure—no, they didn't hate him, they _admired _him, so much so that they pulled him apart to try to figure out what made him work, what it was about that made him so physiologically _perfect. _

Funnily enough, they were the first people who told him that he was talented, he was _very _talented and he could get even _better. _

They weren't trying to _kill _him—yes, they were trying to break him, but not to _destroy_ him. They broke him so that each time he'd heal stronger, heal tougher, become harder and harder to break.

They didn't belittle him—they tested him, they prodded him, yes, but they told him he was _important, _they told him he was _dangerous, _that he had the potential to be the greatest threat the world had ever _known. _They told him that nothing could stop him, once he was trained enough, once he was crafted to lethal _perfection. _

Yes, he hated them. And yes, he wanted to kill them for what they did to him, for locking him up and training him like an attack dog.

But ultimately, he had them to thank for the superhero he'd become.

Everything they did to him made him that much stronger, made him work a little bit harder, made him that much wiser—everything they did to him made him a fighter.

Everything they did to him made him learn a little bit faster, made his skin a little bit thicker, made him that much smarter—everything they did to him made him a _fighter. _

If it wasn't for everything they'd done to him, he wouldn't know just how capable he was to pull through.

If it wasn't for all their torture, he wouldn't know how to be how he was now, and never back down.

So, no, he didn't despise them. No, he would not wish away the torture he'd been put through, he would not ever wish that Juvie had never happened to him. He didn't regret any of it.

He could handle the nightmares. He could handle all that had happened to him over again.

The worst thing about Juvie had been being trapped. That was what haunted him most about his time in incarceration. Being _trapped_. Strapped to a table unable to move, locked in a cell unable to run except for when they ran him through their tests and he got to unleash everything he had, had to fight his hardest just to _survive _those trials.

But in all actuality, it wasn't what _had _happened to him that _really _haunted him—it was what _could _have happened to him had the Young Avengers not come and set him free.

Because after Juvie had crafted him into the perfect living weapon, they would then have sought a way to _control _him, to make him truly their _own. _

What _really _haunted him was what had happened to Noh-Varr, that crazy Kree they'd encountered at the Cube (and who was now part of their team). What _really _haunted him was the thought of doing awful things but being aware that it's _wasn't__ him_. To have his will taken away, body and mind no longer his own... Tommy couldn't possibly conceive of anything _worse. _

So yes, Tommy wanted to kill all those doctors at Juvie—not for what they'd done to him, but for what they _would _have done to him. He wanted to kill them just to prove to them how _right _they'd been about him, to show them how much they'd _succeeded _in turning him into the ultimate living weapon, to rub it in their _faces _that they'd failed their ultimate goal of controlling him. He wanted to kill them just to make it perfectly _clear _that they would never be touching him ever again.

So yes, Tommy wanted to kill no, he did not kill them. Because as much as he _wanted _to, he was an _Avenger, _and Avengers didn't kill (unless absolutely necessary). No, he did not kill them, because they _wanted _him to be a killer (they _made _him a killer) and he wanted to show them just how _wrong _they were about thinking they could _control_ him.

He would not fall prey to that trap.

He was a _survivor, not_ a victim. He _survived _and would never be victimized ever again. They _made _him a survivor, _made _him a fighter.

He wanted to thank them, sincerely; and then he wanted to kill them, mercilessly. But he did not.

He was _perfect, _and he didn't need to prove it to them. Because he just _was. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter was partly inspired by the chorus of the song "Fighter" by Christina Aguilera. <strong>

**The other part of inspiration came from rereading the issues _YOUNG AVENGERS (2005) #10-12 _and noticing just how _arrogant _Tommy was directly after being released, and how even though he _did _try to kill some of the doctors who'd tested and probed him, he didn't push it when the Young Avengers told him not to. He didn't seem scared or desperate, and he certainly didn't seem _broken. _**

**That's not to say he isn't messed up though of course. Because he really is. And there are definitely signs of him having PTSD in the comics.  
><strong>

**And how decisive he was about killing the doctors and then later the Skrulls they were fighting, he's obviously not new to killing. But yeah, he values being a Young Avenger too much to kill now. **

**I'm just exploring here. Explorations - that's all these one-shots are. **


	83. Evidence of Arrogance

**AN: This one's different.  
><strong>

**All dialogue comes from the comics, which are cited above each section. **

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Canon) Evidence of Arrogance<strong>

* * *

><p><em>YOUNG AVENGERS (2005) #10<em>

* * *

><p>"Armed guards, federal agents, mandroids... this is going to be <em>fun.<em>

"They've kept me locked up for _months... testing _me... _probing _me... trying to turn me into a living _weapon. _

"Well, congratulations, officers... it _worked." _

And Tommy would have shown them _just _how well it had worked, had he not been tackled to the ground by a hot girl in purple spandex.

* * *

><p><em>YOUNG AVENGERS (2005) #10<em>

* * *

><p>"Don't worry... the Super-Skrull situation... is under... control."<p>

And then the Skrull punched him so hard in the face that his nose almost broke. But it didn't actually break, it just got really bloody. Okay, so maybe the situation hadn't been as in control as he'd _thought, _be he'd still been able to dodge most of the Super-Skrull's blows and gotten within a foot of the alien, which was more than any of the others except for the intangible robot could do.

Win for the new kid and reformed superpowered terrorist. The Young Avengers _had _to be impressed.

* * *

><p><em>YOUNG AVENGERS PRESENTS #3<em>

* * *

><p>"Me? I'm <em>Quicksilver <em>fast! Wundagore's next, right?"

_FOOMP! _

He was so fast he defied any kind of sensible number for his incredible speeds. And man, was Billy's teleporting _slow. _

* * *

><p><em>YOUNG AVENGERS PRESENTS #3<em>

* * *

><p>"Tommy, wait—"<p>

"Sorry, not in my vocab—"

_KER-RACCKK!_

"—ulary. Uhh—nice digs. Hell, right? This is hell?"

Yeah, and he sure as _hell _wasn't just going to wait now—hell had to have some doors _somewhere, _right? If there was any way out of this (literal) hellhole, then Speed would find it.

"Okay, whatta we got here?

"Flames—

"Sulfur—

"Demons—

"Souls in torment—

"—Ahhh, I'm in _trouble, _aren't I?"

...Okay, so maybe hell didn't _have _any doors. Guess he'd just have to wait for Billy to come get him then.

"Oh, man, Billy, whatever's going on with you, _don't _forget your big brother—"

Billy wouldn't leave him there, right? Naw, no way would Billy leave him there. He was too much of an asset to be abandoned and Billy was too good of a person to leave him there, what with them being twins apparently and this whole searching-for-the-Scarlet-Witch thing being Billy's idea.

But _hell _did Tommy hate waiting. Especially in a place that stunk so bad.

* * *

><p><em>CIVIL WAR: YOUNG AVENGERS &amp; RUNAWAYS #2<em>

* * *

><p>"I've got this one, Patriot.<p>

"Look, here's the deal. We've got a super-soldier, a giant girl, a robot from the 30th century, a Skrull/Kree super-soldier, Billy (who, yeah, is kind of lame, but can cast spells), an Olympic class archer and martial artist, and... me.

"And really _me's _all you need.

"So, tell me, whattayou got that makes you think you shouldn't just give up?"

Okay, so the guy had a dinosaur. Not too bad. Still, not even a huge fucking _dinosaur _could catch _Speed. _

* * *

><p><em>SECRET INVASION: RUNAWASYOUNG AVENGERS #2_

* * *

><p>"<em>Got it!" <em>

_And you're _welcome_ for grabbing the dagger inches from your face and saving you, Teddy. Yes, I can grab daggers out of the air before you even see them flying at you. I'm not even going to say that out loud and rub it in your face because I'm just that awesome of a person._

* * *

><p><em>SECRET INVASION: RUNAWASYOUNG AVENGERS #2_

* * *

><p>"Hang on, Billy, I've got—AAARGHH!"<p>

Okay, so maybe he didn't got it. That crazy Skrull in the cape was faster than he'd given—him? her? it? did Skrulls even have real genders if they could shapeshift?—credit for. And he wasn't really hurt, he was just startled. Which would not happen again, he would make sure of it.

* * *

><p><em>SECRET INVASION: RUNAWASYOUNG AVENGERS #3_

* * *

><p>"And I'm back."<p>

_Just ran from New York, New York to Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota, and then back, all in a few seconds flat. How's _that_ for awesome, suckers?_

* * *

><p><em>YOUNG AVENGERS (2013) #6 <em>

* * *

><p>"Your move?"<p>

"My move."

Oh yeah, he's totally got this.

"Hey! That's my friend's outfit you're wearing!

"I want you naked, now.

"Not in a sexy way.

"In... a..."

Okay, maybe he didn't totally got it...

The world broke, and then it mended, and—_oh hey, a party!_ Yeah, he's totally got this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Tommy gets parties *nods*<strong>


	84. Thomas Shepherd

**AN: This one is for The Jesteress, who wanted Juvie to catch up to Tommy and Billy and Teddy to be adorably protective of him.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Thomas Shepherd (we're coming for You)<strong>

Thomas Shepherd was the pride of the Super-Juvie program, and so he knew that they never actually gave him up. They'd never give him up.

No, they were still looking for him, they were still coming for him, coming after him to take him back and turn him into—into—he didn't want to think about it, but he could _feel _them after him, feel it in his gut.

It was a tense, coiling feeling, like a snake curled and writhing in his stomach that kept him staying in one place for more than a couple hours.

He needed to keep moving so they couldn't catch up to him. Never sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, never stay in the same apartment for more than a couple months, and never stay there every night. Sometimes he slept in his apartment, sometimes he slept in a room in Avengers Mansion, sometimes in a room in Avengers Tower, occasionally Billy convinced him to stay for a night at the Kaplans, but he always left in the middle of the night. He sped in and out of the Kaplanses' house at superspeed—he couldn't ever let anyone see him come or go. Juvie would come for him, but he didn't want Juvie to come for him _there. _

Because they were coming for him. He didn't have a spidey-sense, but if he did, he was pretty sure it would be buzzing all the time. He just had paranoia.

He tried not to let it show—he was a good actor, and by the fact that nobody was sending him anxious glances _all _the time, he seemed to be doing okay.

Yeah, he was doing okay.

Up until the day Juvie caught up with him.

* * *

><p>"Thomas Shepherd. The Project wants you."<p>

Tommy froze for a millisecond before whipping around at the chillingly familiar voice coming through the trees. He should've known they'd come for him when he was enjoying a peaceful moment out in the wilderness far away from any people. Who knew how they'd found him there or even transported themselves there.

"We've come to take you in." The face was that of another mutant Tommy recognized from his time in that hellhole—he didn't remember the guy's name, but he remembered his powers, which were basically superstrength and a small degree of superspeed coupled with the ability to form a black, scaly armor over his body.

And Tommy laughed, all nerves and anger and certain kind of _relief _that they'd found him and he was no longer _waiting. _He hated and dreaded waiting, so maybe it was better this way.

"I hope you brought friends, lizard guy, 'cuz taking you down is hardly worth my time," Tommy sneered, balling his hands into fists at his side as he did a quick scan—to fast for the other mutant to see—of the surrounding area, finding that, yes, there were others—another that he recognized, a girl with the ability to call up a fog that she could imbue with gases to poison or tranquilize—as well another girl and two guys that he didn't recognize and who were probably new and he didn't know the powers of.

"Five against one?" Tommy asked, quirking an eyebrow and smirking as they came closer, closing in on him. "I hardly think those are fair odds, not when I count as at least _ten _people, which makes this at least a two to one ratio in my favor."

He was stalling and talking confidence into himself, he knew he was, and they must have picked up on it too, because the girl he recognized sneered, "Don't be so confident, Shepherd."

"Wow, I must have made an impression if you remember my name, because I know that _you _didn't make an impression and I sure as hell don't remember yours."

"You were the Program's pride, but you left because you were too _weak _to embrace the soldier you're designed to be."

"Um," Tommy raised his eyebrows, holding up a finger, "I've fought a Skrull armada, just so you know. You think _you _can take me down when _Super-Skrulls _couldn't?"

He was waiting, because nobody could ever remember just how _fast _he was—how could they, when they couldn't even _comprehend _the speeds he moved and thought at?

The five mutants jumped at him—the lizard guy had armored up, the fog girl was creating a thick mist, one of the other guys was walking through a portal he'd created (well that explained how they'd gotten there), the other girl was clenching her hands and probably the reason the ground was quaking beneath his feet, and who the hell knew what the other guy was doing because he didn't seem like he was doing anything—but Tommy wasn't there.

Because he was suddenly _everywhere, _leaping over the bucking ground to punch the girl responsible in the face and make the ground quiet, dispersing the drugged fog with his hands, catching the teleporter by the arm and flinging him into the lizard guy knocking the both of _them _into the fog where they coughed and collapsed but weren't dead because they weren't trying to kill him, and he wasn't going to kill _them _because he was better than that and the were poor losers who didn't really deserve that anyway and they weren't the ones who'd hurt him, and the fog girl was trying to obscure herself in her element but Tommy punched her lights out anyway, and then there was the other guy and what the hell was he doing?

Oh, ha, Tommy glanced around to see that this guy was slowing down _time_ around him, and that was a _really _stupid superpower to pit against a _speedster. _Slowing down the world was _nothing _to someone who lived at such high speeds.

"Slow him down!" the lizard guy hissed at the time-slower, who cried back, "I'm _trying!" _and was aiming everything he had at Tommy, and Tommy was starting to feel it a _little _bit, but it wasn't enough and he was running around and delivering blows, and then—

Ouch! Blow to the head—okay, so the teleporter wasn't down any more than the scaly dude was—and Tommy just realized that 'lizard dude' was probably not the best nickname seeing as the guy didn't have a tail, which lizards tended to have, he was just scaly, so he would now be dubbed 'scaly dude'—and 'porters were _fast _but not fast enough to beat _Speed, _but fast enough to be a bit annoying so Tommy made sure to completely take that guy out next.

And then the time-slower dude simply for the _nerve _the guy had to try and slow him down.

And then there was just the scaly guy, and he would be the hardest because punching him didn't seem to do anything, but the dude still needed _oxygen _to breathe and—lizards breathed oxygen, right? Right—and so Tommy sped around and around him creating a vacuum so the guy suffocated into unconsciousness, but Tommy wouldn't kill him, and as he fell down Tommy stopped running and glanced around at his handiwork and—

_Fuckhewasshotintheneckwithsomethingfuckfuckhewasfallingblackinhisvisionoffucking_course_thosepathetickidswerejustadistractionandtherealdangerwasfromadistancenonoNOthiscouldn'tbehappeningfuckithecouldn'tgobacktherefu... _

* * *

><p>"Where the hell's Tommy?" Billy asked, looking at his watch and frowning. "He's <em>never <em>late to dinner."

"Not when he remembers," Teddy agreed, glancing into the dining room where Rebecca Kaplan was placing a delicious-smelling dinner on the table, before turning back to his boyfriend. "We did remember to invite him over for pasta night, right?"

"Yeah, I invited him," Billy said as he pulled out his phone. "You know he loves mom's pasta and especially her homemade pesto sauce. He said, and I quote: 'I wouldn't miss it if the world was ending.'"

"So then whatever's keeping him is worse than the world ending," Teddy surmised as Billy speed-dialed Tommy's number and held the phone to his ear, waiting as it began to ring and opening his mouth to answer Tommy—

Except Tommy didn't answer. Usually Tommy answered before the ring had passed the _rrrrr _part and into the _iiiiiii _part, and he never _ever _waited till the _nnnngggg _part.

But Tommy didn't answer after the first ring. Or the second ring.

By the third ring, Billy's face was one of horrified anxiousness, and he hung up the call to turn desperately to his boyfriend, saying, "We need to go after him. Something awful has happened."

Teddy nodded and clasped a hand on the witch's shoulder. "Hey, Mrs. Kaplan!" he called into the dining room, "Billy and I need to attend a superhero emergency! Start dinner without us—hopefully we'll be back soon, but who knows. I promise to bring Billy back safe!"

And Rebecca called, "Good luck!" to them, expression concerned but understanding, and Billy waved gratefully at her before chanting under his breath and teleporting himself and Teddy to wherever Tommy was.

* * *

><p>Wiccan and Hulkling—having been magically dressed in their Young Avenger outfits during the teleportation—found themselves in a coniferous forest at the edge of a what had obviously been a battle scene, six prone bodies on the ground.<p>

One of them was Tommy.

Tommy was currently surrounded by several federal agents, armed with guns and dressed in armored suits, and one of them was saying, "Come on, get him up. That tranq dart is barely gonna give us enough time to get him back to Juvie."

Teddy, huge and green and _angry, _charged forward with a _roar, _knocking the men away and taking the unconscious speedster into his arms.

More agents flooded out of the woods, but they were quickly blown back by a bright blue blast.

Billy was floating in the air, eyes glowing an eerie cerulean within the dark shadow of his scarlet hood, hands out by his sides, absolutely _scintillating _with fury.

Teddy ran over to him with the limp speedster cradled against him, then, upon reaching where Billy was floating, turned to _snarl _at the men who'd managed to find their footing again and had raised their guns.

The snarl was so intensely ferocious and menacing that it had them all step back a pace.

And Billy wasn't any less threatening, floating there and radiating blue like a beacon, strands of it curling around him like plasma.

Juvie had been trying to take Tommy back. Juvie had been trying to take Tommy _away _from him—his own twin brother!—and abuse him again and torture him and turn him into a living weapon and—Billy didn't know much about what had happened to Tommy in that awful place 'cuz Tommy sure didn't talk about it, but Billy knew that Tommy was mentally scarred and—_NO. _

_No, _Billy would _never _let them take Tommy again, would never let them take his _soul twin. _

And it was with all this anger and fear and desire to protect his brother that Billy cast a spell to make sure that Juvie would never come after Tommy _ever _again.

And maybe that was more reality-warping than he should technically be doing to the world, but at this point he didn't _care_, because if Juvie came after Tommy this time then they would just keep coming, and eventually they would capture Tommy, and Billy _would not allow that. _

And then, leaving a bunch of federal agents in the middle of a forest with absolutely no idea what they were doing there, Billy teleported himself and Teddy and Tommy back to his house.

* * *

><p>"Is he hurt?!" Billy asked as soon as they'd arrived, rushing over to where Teddy was setting the unconscious speedster down on the couch.<p>

"He had a tranquilizer dart in his neck, but I pulled it out," Teddy informed him, standing back to let Billy check Tommy for any further injuries.

Teddy was still breathing hard from his anger, fists clenched at his sides as he watched, unable to shift himself back to human form while still this riled up.

How _dare _they try to take Tommy back?!

"What's going—?" Mrs. Kaplan asked as she hurried into the room to see Billy and Teddy in their superhero clothes and Tommy lying limp on the couch with his eyes closed. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed as she rushed over. "What happened?!"

Billy had cast a small spell to see if Tommy had any other injuries, and finding that he didn't, Billy heaved a huge sigh of relief and threw himself over Tommy's chest, beginning to sob in the emotional fallout of what had happened, in the fury still coursing through him, the relief that Tommy was okay, all the crazy feelings flooding through him. He just held onto his unconscious twin and sobbed.

And then his mother was there rubbing his back and checking Tommy's vital signs, and Teddy was looming over them, huge and green with a warm and protective presence, and Billy sobbed harder.

* * *

><p>Tommy woke up to the feeling of his shirt being wet and there being a heavy weight on his chest.<p>

"Huuuh?" he said articulately as he cracked his eyes open, feeling annoyingly groggy and lethargic, blinking as Billy's face appeared above him, puffy and streaked with tears.

Despite that, Billy beamed at him. "Tommy! You're awake! How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

Tommy made a face and dragged himself into a sitting position against the arm of the couch, rubbing at his bleary eyes and complaining, "Man, I feel like I was _drugged _or—" It all came crashing back to him. "Oh wait, I _was _drugged." He fixed his gaze on his twin, frowning slightly. "I didn't see the guy with the tranq gun. I..." he glanced around the living room of the Kaplanses' house, "...this was not where I was expecting to wake up. What _happened?" _

Billy lunged forward and wrapped his arms tight around Tommy's torso, burying his head in the speedster's shoulder and mumbling, _"I'msogladyou'realright," _while Teddy came over to lay a hand on Tommy's head, brushing fingers through fine white hair.

"You were late for dinner and weren't answering your phone, so we went to look for you," Teddy explained, since Billy seemed quite incoherent and just held on to the speedster like Tommy was a life-raft. "We found you unconscious and surrounded by federal agents who were going to take you back to Juvie. So we beat them up a little bit, and Billy cast a spell to make sure they'd never come after you again, and we brought you back here."

Teddy was grinning at him affectionately, and Billy was being so damn clingy it was ridiculous.

"I didn't know Juvie was still after you," Billy mumbled into his chest. "I didn't..." he lifted his head to glared at Tommy, practically yelling, _"why didn't you tell me?! _I would have helped you _sooner, _and _none of that would have happened _and I wouldn't have _almost lost you! _Again! Tommy, I lost you during the whole Mother incident and had the Young Avengers chase the not-Patriot across _dimensions _to try and get you back! _I am not losing you again!_"

Tommy just stared at him, eyes wide.

Billy gave a sob and then attached himself to speedster's chest again, squeezing him desperately.

"I..." Tommy started, glancing between them, not knowing what to say, looking utterly _lost_. "You..." he struggled for a few more moments before deciding to just skip to the point, managing, "You mean Juvie... they really won't be coming after me again?"

"They're never coming after you," Billy said vehemently, hugging Tommy impossibly harder. "Never ever _ever. _You're safe now, Tommy. _You're safe. You'resafeyou'resafeyou'resafeIwantyoutobesafe." _

By that point, it sounded like Billy was trying to reassure himself more than he was trying to reassure Tommy.

"Um..." Tommy managed, looking completely lost as he patted his brother awkwardly on the back. "Okay, I'm... I'm safe?" he tried, hoping it would calm down his crazy twin.

"You're _safe," _Billy said ardently, seeming like he was trying to combine their souls he was crushing his twin so hard.

"Okay, um..." Tommy's eyes were wide and he looked completely and utterly _stupefied. _"...Okay?"

He was saved from spontaneously combusting with a whole shitload of feelings he didn't understand or know how to deal with and was trying to suppress when Mrs. Kaplan walked in, smiling genuinely at him as she said kindly, "I'm glad to see you're awake, Tommy." Then she addressed all three of them with, "So, how would you boys like some dinner? It's cold now, but I can warm it up for you."

"That would be great, Mrs. Kaplan," Teddy smiled at her. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome, dears," Mrs. Kaplan smiled back, before heading into the kitchen to warm up the leftovers, and she could be heard humming to herself as she moved around the room, opening and closing fridge and oven doors.

"Dude, I'm _starving," _Tommy said, suddenly finding that he recognized one of the uncomfortable feelings in his gut and feeling relief that it could be fixed with food. He tried to get up, but Billy had practically crawled on top of him. "Um, Billy?" he said, patting the dark-haired boy on the head uncertainly. "You're not a koala, and I'm not an eucalyptus tree. Let go."

"No," Billy said, shaking his head against the speedster's chest. "I'm not letting go. Never again. Never ever ever."

"That's gonna be awkward." Tommy glanced up at Teddy helplessly. "Um, Ted? A little help?"

The blond came over, and Tommy thought for sure he was going to remove the clingy mage, but instead Teddy just sat down on the couch next to him, taking Tommy's legs into his lap, taking off the speedster's socks and beginning to massage his feet.

"Are you _seriously_ massaging my feet?!" Tommy asked incredulously, before groaning in frustration, leaning his head back against the armrest and clenching his eyes shut because just _what the fuck._

But he was soon moaning softly, because dammit if Teddy was fucking _great _at foot massages—seriously, who knew that massages, much less _foot _massages, could be feel so damn _incredible? _He hadn't even realized that the muscles in his feet had been so tense until they were being rubbed into relaxation.

"I hate you both," he muttered, eyes still closed, because he had no idea what else to say.

"I love you too, Tommy," Billy said with a breathy laugh, nuzzling his head beneath Tommy's chin.

Teddy didn't say anything, just kept massaging Tommy's feet, but the speedster could practically _feel _the stupid alien's shit-eating grin.

"I am going to _die," _Tommy said dramatically from behind his hands. "I am seriously going to die. Guys, seriously. This is torture. I don't know how to deal with this. Guys. I don't think I like this attention. I think that..." his words trailed off into another contented moan as Teddy found a particularly sensitive spot on his foot, rubbing his thumb hard against the very top of the speedster's arch.

Teddy chuckled at him.

"Dinner's warmed up," Rebecca called, coming into the doorway to beckon them in only to laugh at the site of them, disappearing again and returning with the dishes, coming over to set the food on the coffee table in front of them. She smiled at them like they were the most adorable things in the world, and Tommy covered his eyes again and groaned loudly.

"Mrs. Kaplan?" Teddy asked, raising his eyebrows. Usually she was very strict about everybody eating meals in the dining room.

"I think," she said, "in these circumstances, that you boys can eat dinner on the couch. Only for today, though!"

Food meant that Teddy had to stop rubbing his feet, and Billy had to stop clinging to him, and Tommy threw himself into the food with eager vigor, trying to ignore all the feelings of unbelieving gratitude that they'd actually come for him and that Billy had made it so he wouldn't have to worry about Juvie coming for him ever again, and all the warm fuzziness filling his chest and making him feel like he was going to be sick and throw up his heart through his mouth, because Billy and Teddy cared for him and the Kaplanses accepted him into their home and it was too much and Tommy had absolutely _no fucking idea _how to deal with it. At _all. _

But... maybe he could get used to it?

Fuck no.

Man, but he felt so... so _good _that he thought he would explode with all the stupid feelings he didn't want to have. It made him feel_ sick_, all these stupid emotions.

People cared about him. Really _genuinely cared about him._ Fucking shit. What the hell had his life become.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Jesteress actually also wanted Tommy to be deep and serious, but... it just didn't end up happening. I'm pretty happy with what did happen, though.<br>**

**I don't know where the foot-rub thing came from lol (but I imagine that since Tommy's on his feet all the time a massage of those muscles would feel really damn good). Maybe Billy really enjoys foot rubs and 'cuz of the twin thing Teddy suspected that Tommy would like them too. I don't know. But massages are amazing. And Tommy is super-tense.  
><strong>

**Lol I think maybe Billy and Teddy were just trying to absolutely _drown _Tommy in affection and completely shortcircuit his brain so he couldn't try to deny the fact that he's looooved. Poor Tommy doesn't know what to do with that information.**


	85. Cut Open

**AN: This one is for Zeef, who wanted some resolution to all the angst and for someone to talk some of the emotional weight off Tommy.  
><strong>

**Also, there's whump.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Cut Open (bleed it out and come to a resolution)<span>**

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Speed wasn't supposed to get caught. He wasn't supposed to end up strapped to a metal table—not again—kept there by those stupid rubber restraints that he couldn't vibrate through—not _again—_while mutant-haters cut him open—_not again. _

He was past that. He was a superhero; this sort of thing _wasn't supposed to happen again. _

But happen it did. And the stupid idiots operating on him—why did people always want to _cut him open?—_actually injected him with something to knock him out, as if that would _help._

Sure enough, scant minutes after he blacked out, he woke up to oh-so-familiar pain _pain PAIN. _

He screamed.

It wasn't a conscious decision—you didn't _let _yourself scream, it was just your body's reaction to the pain, the sensory overload. It didn't matter _how _tough you were or how accustomed you were to pain—someone cuts you open, and you scream. You scream until your lungs are empty and your throat is raw and you can't possibly scream anymore.

It was a small satisfaction that the doctors hadn't been expecting him to wake up, and flinched violently at the sound, stumbling around for earplugs or something.

Speed was a speedster—he screamed high and he screamed fast, hours of screaming and agony condensed into minutes.

Every minute he was strapped to that table with scalpels pulling him apart was, to him, weeks of torture.

At Juvie he'd spent what felt like _years _strapped to a table very similar to this one. Those months he'd been locked in Juvie had felt like _decades_ to him. The way other people experienced time didn't make sense to him anymore. Every day he lived was many days. Every night he experienced was many nights. Every second to someone else was minutes full of seconds to him. He had to wear a watch or he would simply lose track of the world's grasp of time.

But he didn't have a watch in that bright white room. There was no clock. No sense of time.

Just centuries and centuries of _pain. _

But that was okay, he could deal with this. He could survive this. He'd survived so many times before, he knew he could survive this.

It didn't make the vivisection _hurt _any less, but it did keep the fear from taking hold of him.

He didn't need to be afraid. He'd survived this before, he could survive it again. There was nothing to _be_ afraid of, except for pain, but pain wasn't scary. He _knew _pain.

Maybe this _was _supposed to happen. Maybe he needed this to happen to keep him from getting soft, to keep him from forgetting what it felt like to be a lab rat, cut open and tested and prodded and hurt just for the sake of them seeing him hurt. (As if he could forget.)

Maybe he would have thought that he needed this painful reminder, if he'd been able to string together a single coherent thought through the intense white-out of agony.

And maybe he would have had the thought that he wouldn't have to suffer too long before his friends and family came for him, maybe he would have remembered that _this _time, there were people out there who actually _cared _for him, and would not willingly let him undergo such torture.

As it was, all he could register was that there was _PAIN _and he wasn't going to ever let it break him.

He finally passed out just from the sheer taxation the pain had taken on his body and the necessary energy it took to heal such an injury, sometime after the doctors had sewn him back up and left, murmuring amongst themselves behind surgical masks in low voices that he couldn't muster up the focus to decipher.

He woke up to an explosion.

His eyes shot open, but being tightly restrained all he could look at was the ceiling.

There was a horrible screeching of metal, more explosions, roaring and snarling, the sounds of battle.

And then his restraints were being removed, and somebody was helping him sit up, and he was blinking into Wiccan's concerned face and then being lifted and cradled in the arms of a certain large green alien and being taken from that horrible place, Hulkling charging through the halls while Wiccan protected them with glowing blue magic.

Speed could see the facility being completely and utterly destroyed by the combined mights of some of the most dangerous mutants alive.

The Scarlet Witch. Quicksilver. Magneto. Wolverine. All of them on a rampage of destruction against the mutant hate group that had kidnapped Speed. All of them there because they cared for him and wouldn't let him be tested and prodded and killed or turned into a living weapon. And all of them were furious—_beyond _furious.

The destruction of the place by their hands was violent and awing. Probably even flattering, if Speed would admit to having enough feelings to be truly flattered.

As it was, he hated being carried.

"_LemmdownIcanrun!" _

It was highly likely that he'd spoken so fast that Hulkling couldn't understand him, and it didn't help that the sound of explosions and ripping metal were pretty damn near deafening.

He struggled a little in Hulkling's grip, but then realized that moving hurt, and that if was put down, he'd have to focus on moving forward and wouldn't be able to watch the rather stunning scene of destruction, and he had a perfectly good view looking over Hulkling's shoulder in his current position that he decided wasn't worth giving up.

The Scarlet Witch and Magneto were both levitating above the building, eyes glowing, scarlet and red-violet, tearing the place apart.

Quicksilver had made a sweep of the place and rescued all other living mutants being held there, and was now indisposing armed agents and mandroids by hand, using every speedster trick he knew. Everyone else couldn't so much as _see _Quicksilver, but Speed could watch the older white-haired speedster easily.

And then there was Wolverine, who was doing what Wolverine did best.

Okay, so maybe the fact that they were all doing this for Speed _was _pretty damn flattering. What a way to be witness to how much certain people cared about you.

* * *

><p>So many concerned faces, all looking at him, asking, "Are you okay, Tommy? Tommy, are you okay?"<p>

Dammit, he was just _cut open _by crazy mutant-haters who were going to use him or kill him or both, should he _be _o-fucking-kay?!

"I'm _fine," _he ground out, getting up from where he'd been placed on the couch and pushing his way through the group of concerned friends, family, and team members, physically shoving their hands away when they tried to offer help. "My chest hurts a little, just leave me _alone." _

He stumbled at supersonic speed to his room, shutting and locking the door and then staggering over to fall on the mattress.

He just needed to sleep this off. He just needed to rest, and he really _would _be fine.

Getting vivisected while fully conscious and without anything to remove or dull the pain _always _sucked, and then everyone being so damned concerned about him and making his heart twinge painfully? Everything was just _too much _right now.

He just needed to sleep it all off, and then he could wake up anew and pretend that none of it had happened. Just act normal. Mind and body reset back to normal, emotions back to normal, normal normal no feelings he was just too tired right now he could later yeah oh man was his bed ridiculously comfortable not a metal table no don't think about that think normal think sleep think rest think how soft the pillow is think nothing think _safe..._

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Tommy was awake and standing in front of the mirror, carefully removing the surgical thread from his now-flawless skin.<p>

The last of the thread removed, he examined his torso carefully. No visible lines.

He ran his hands over his pecs and abs just to make sure there were no raised marks.

Okay good. No scars, no traces, it never happened. Well, okay, it _had _happened, but he was all healed and he was past that. Let the past be the past. Keep moving forward. Just keep moving.

There was a quiet _snikt, _and Tommy whirled around to see that Logan had popped a claw in the lock on his door and simply let himself in, closing the door behind him.

Tommy crossed his arms over his bare chest and glared. "Dude, the door was locked for a _reason_, you know."

Logan dragged out the wooden chair that Tommy never used out from under the desk that Tommy also never used, sitting himself down and just staring at the speedster, chewing on a toothpick that was stuck between his teeth. The look wasn't pitying, more just surveying.

Tommy bristled.

"I'm perfectly fine!" Tommy snapped. "A-okay and all that! See?" He removed his arms from his chest, gesturing at the smooth and flawless expanse of skin stretched over lean and perfectly-sculpted muscle, not a single mark, ridge, or dent visible. "All healed! All better!"

Logan just levelled his gaze at the speedster. "I've got a healing factor, bub," he said around the toothpick. "I know that pain goes deeper'n scars."

Unable to stand still, but still not feeling quite well enough to run far away from the situation, Tommy took to pacing. "Then why are you _here?!" _Tommy demanded, gesticulating as he spoke. "There's nothing to _say! _What happened happened, I can deal, let's not dwell on things and all just move forward okay?! You know what it's like!"

"I do," Logan said, unfazed, making himself comfortable in the chair. "An' that's why I want ta talk t'ya."

Tommy had stopped pacing to glare at him.

"Look, kid," Logan said, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and holding it between two of his fingers as he looked at the speedster seriously. "You don't hafta pretend that none'a that shit happened t'ya. You're not okay, kid, and ya don't hafta pretend that you are."

Tommy scoffed, and Logan leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands as he stared the speedster down.

"Yer not alone in this, kid. An' take it from me—I learned this all the hard way, an' I _know _what I'm talkin' 'bout when I say that you don't wanna deal with this alone. You gotta let people help ya, kid, if only by lettin' 'em _be there _for ya and not always pushin' 'em away. There are lotsa people out there in the world that hate ya and will do everythin' they can ta hurt ya, but there're also people that care for ya, and you gotta accept that. 'Cause the people who wanna hurt ya aren't gonna stop anytime soon, but neither are the people that care for ya."

Tommy looked about ready to bolt, and Logan sat back, rubbing the toothpick between two fingers, continuing, "Look, you don't hafta be _okay _t'be accepted here. We've all got problems," he gestured to indicate himself and the rest of Avengers Tower, indicating all those within, "anger problems, trauma problems—shit, Clint's just got _life _problems."

That got a small snort out of the speedster.

Logan grinned briefly at the archer's expense before his expression sobered, and he continued, "If ya ignore the problems, they're just gonna get worse. We might be heroes, but we ain't perfect. We ain't _gotta _be."

Tommy glared at him, fists clenched at his sides, trembling slightly. "I _know _all that!"

"Then what're you afraid of?" Logan asked, piercing the speedster with his blue eyes.

"I'm _not _afraid!" Tommy snapped indignantly, green eyes blazing, the shaking of his body intensifying.

Logan just stared at him and waited.

"I'm _not! _I'm not _afraid, _I just..." Tommy looked away, stilling his body and clenching his hands in the front of his hair.

Logan's gaze softened, as did his voice. "It wasn't yer fault, kid," he said earnestly. "An' you didn't deserve what those doctors did t'ya. Not the other day, and not before, either."

Tommy glanced at him, before looking down, saying, "Neither did you..." then he looked up with a small smirk, adding, "bub."

Logan huffed a gruff laugh. Getting up out of the chair, unnervingly graceful for a short, thick guy with a metal skeleton, Logan walked over to lay a hand on the speedster's shoulder. "Look, kid, ya don't gotta talk about it if ya don't wanna. I know it hurts. The wounds heal, yeah, but the memories're still there. An' they come back at night t'haunt ya sometimes an' it hurts t'talk. But when you're ready... you've got people who'll listen, kid, an' talkin' helps. You're _strong,_ kid. Face the pain, don't run from it."

Logan patted Tommy's shoulder again before taking his leave, not closing the door all the way.

Tommy watched him go, listened to the mutant's footsteps disappearing down the hall, rubbed his hands through his white hair, took a few breaths all the way to the bottoms of his aching lungs.

Once Wolverine's footsteps were no longer audible, Tommy walked over to the ajar door, putting a hand on the cold metal of the handle.

Maybe he'd go down to the kitchen and grab something to eat, and then confront his friends and family that were no doubt still worried about him.

Food first, then he'd deal with the stupid emotional stuff, and actually _deal _with it, not just run away from it like was his wont. He didn't have to tell them everything—hell, he didn't have to tell them _anything _if he didn't want to—but he could still face them and answer their questions to whatever extent he felt comfortable answering them, and let them know if he wasn't comfortable with something.

Sounded like a plan. He could do that. If he could survive getting cut open while awake and aware then he could survive talking with people who cared for him.

It wasn't the end of the world, after all. He could do this.

Baby steps. Food first.

Tommy pushed open the door and stepped out into the hall.


	86. Family Matters

**AN: This is a continuation of/companion to the previous chapter. A bit of relief from all the angst. Not that there isn't some angst in this chapter, but... it's not _pure _angst...  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Family Matters (I'm not running, I just don't wanna talk about it right now)<strong>

When Teddy and Billy arrived in the Mansion with a tortured Tommy, Steve quickly indicated for them to set the speedster on the couch, and the Captain did a quick medical check while an irate and agonized Tommy tried to brush him away, spitting obscenities.

Then the Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Wolverine, and Magneto arrived, and Steve stared them down waiting for an explanation.

"Group'a sick bastards took the kid," Logan growled.

"They hurt my _son!" _Wanda said, still radiating fury.

"An anti-mutant organization kidnapped Thomas and vivisected him, fully intent to study him till their curiosity murdered him, and then they planned to harvest his cells to create MGH," Erik stated, solemn with barely contained rage. "All mutants are under my protection, _especially _my own grandson."

Pietro said nothing, just stood there with stance wide, arms by his sides, chin tilted down in a dare.

Steve glanced at them all, eyes lingering on Magneto. "You're not officially here," he said authoritatively. "The Avengers do not know about a wanted terrorist being on our property because it never happened. Understood?"

Magneto just looked at him coolly, but respect seemed to flicker fleetingly across his face.

Steve nodded acknowledgement at the Master of Magnetism, and then turned to nod to the older speedster in the room. "I saw the press conferenced, Pietro.*"

Pietro tensed.

"I'm..." Steve's lips pulled upwards slightly, eyes shining for a moment. "I'm proud of you." Then Captain America turned and left.

Then all attention fell onto Tommy.

Magneto, Quicksilver, and Wolverine stood back from the injured young speedster, but Billy and Wanda knelt by the couch, asking Tommy if he was alright, putting their hands over his or stroking his hair, and Teddy hovered nearby.

"I'm _fine," _Tommy ground out, sitting up despite his brother and mother urging him to lie back down. "My chest hurts a little, just leave me _alone." _

And then he rushed out of the room.

Billy bit his lip and Wanda hurriedly got up to follow after her white-haired son.

"Sister," Pietro said, suddenly there with his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

"Listen t'the kid an' leave 'im alone," Logan agreed almost absently, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "He needs rest. Don't make 'im run now when he could still tear those stitches."

"They..." Wanda clutched her brother, burying her head in his shoulder, a sob running through her frame. "What they _did _to him."

"At least they sewed 'im back up," Logan grunted, almost to himself. "Could'a been worse."

"This is what I've been trying to tell you about humans and their regard for mutants," Erik said, to the room at large but especially to his children, arms crossed, anger and hatred livid in his blue eyes, though is voice stayed controlled. "They _hate _us. They _imprison _and _torture _us. They _murder _us. And still they want to be _like _us." Magneto's eyes were cold and hard, like metal. "If the Avengers and X-Factor put more effort into protecting mutants and hunting down cruel corporations like the one that took Thomas, rather than just protecting _humans_ all the time—"

"X-Factor protects mutants," Quicksilver said, still holding his sister.

Lifting her face from her brother's shoulder, Wanda looked at her father, saying, "The Avengers are trying to improve the public outlook on mutants. We're starting to make changes to the line-up, bringing in more mutants to show that humans and mutants can work together**."

Magneto opened his mouth to retort angrily, but Billy quickly interrupted the argument before it could start to get heated.

"Hey, Grandfather," Billy said, "I like the new look." He nodded at Erik's outfit, which was mostly black, stripes of white down the sides of his torso to his thighs, around the top of his boots and framing the opening in his helmet, instead of the red and purple one he'd worn for years. "Much more dignified."

Erik looked at him. "Thank you."

Billy grinned somewhat awkwardly.

"Would anyone like a drink?" Teddy offered.

* * *

><p>A few hours later and everyone was still there, waiting for Tommy to return, wanting to be assured of his health, both mental and physical.<p>

Billy and Teddy, using their quite frankly adorable wiles, had somehow managed to keep the heated argument from resurfacing again.

Billy for his part was keeping Erik distracted with a game of chess, and Teddy was talking to Wanda while Pietro hovered close by.

Logan had slipped away and then slipped back in unnoticed.

Shortly after, Tommy entered the room, grinning and brushing back his bangs as he swaggered in, chest bare to show off his unscarred skin. "Hey," he greeted.

And the he let Wanda come over to embrace him, one arm around his shoulders while her other hand carded through the back of his hair, and he somewhat gingerly put his arms around her waist.

"Oh, _Thomas,"_ she breathed, shuddering with leftover maternal protectiveness, fear for him and fury for what was done to him.

"Hey, Scarlet Mom, it's okay," he said, patting her on the back awkwardly before breaking away and moving off a few feet, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he grinned almost sheepishly. "I feel a lot better now after getting some sleep. And I'm all healed up, so, as far as I'm concerned they got nothin' on me."

"Thomas, I'm so _sorry," _Wanda said, bleeding heart in her words, expression pained. "What kind of mother—"

"Seriously, stop," Tommy said in a degree of alarm, raising his hands, "It wasn't your fault, Scarlet Mom. And you're a way better mother than my other mother, so, you know. I'm actually not _unused _to that type of treatment and—"

Wanda looked inconsolable, tears running down her cheeks, so Tommy continued on hurriedly, "—shit, don't look like that, _don't—_it's not that sad, I'm just trying to say that I'm not any more fu—" he quickly caught himself, "messed up than I already was, and it's really not your fault no matter how much you think it is."

Glancing around, Tommy saw that Wanda wasn't the only one who appeared guilt-ridden.

Billy was latched tightly to Teddy, looking at least as pained as Wanda.

Erik was tense with rage, hands clenched, glancing down in a way that suggested that at least a small portion of that anger was directed inwards at himself.

Logan had his arms crossed and was looking away.

Pietro no doubt looked carefully neutral to everyone else, but Tommy could see the occasional twitch of a muscle in his face or arm, the way he met Tommy's eyes and then glanced away only to meet his gaze again.

"None of it's _any _of your faults," Tommy said forcefully, chin lifted and eyes narrowed, "even if Wanda and Billy are convinced that every fault of the world lies on their shoulders and Mags feels it his duty to protect mutants from that kind of shit, and—" he gave a frustrated sigh, gesticulating as he continued, "just _look, _I don't really want to talk about what happened, okay? I survived. You came after me, and—it was actually kind of _nice _to know that you guys wouldn't let that kind of thing happen to me again, so, you know, I actually got reassurance out of the whole ordeal rather than pain and fear or crap like that."

Tommy rolled his eyes, fed up. "But bad shit has happened to _all_ of us, and we're all still alive and kickin' so—" casting his eyes around at their faces he couldn't help but bite at his lip a little bit, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "Seriously, stop," he snapped. "You're gonna make me feel _ashamed_ about what happened."

Erik looked at him, hard, lips tightening. "You should never feel ashamed about what was done to you, Thomas," he stated assertively. "It is not your fault that the humans of this world both admire and fear you for being better than they are, and do their best to make you suffer for it. It is a testament to your resilience and superiority that you've survived such hardships, and you are stronger and wiser for it."

Tommy grinned at him. "Exactly my point!" he declared, looking suddenly smug. "Now," he stuck his hands in his jean pockets with a casual smirk, "since the entire family is here, plus Wolverine who maybe counts as the nanny or something—"

"Hey!" Logan barked, glaring at the young speedster indignantly.

"—anybody want some ice cream?" Tommy finished, grinning wide at the surprised expressions that question was met with. "I make mean homemade ice cream. When I don't shake it so hard that it blows up, of course."

That got a guffaws out of Billy and Teddy, and a confused but indulgent smile out of Wanda.

"I remember that," Teddy chuckled, shaking his head, practically having to hold up his laughing boyfriend. "That was an interesting experience. And a waste of good cream and sugar."

"I must go," Pietro said, speeding over to his white-haired nephew, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a look that was minutely softer than his usual hard-edged gaze. "Keeprunning,Tommy."

Then the older speedster left.

"I have... _matters _to attend to," Erik said, nodding at his grandsons before striding out, black cape billowing behind him.

"No way in hell am I stickin' 'round to deal with a buncha sugar-high teens," Logan growled, pushing himself off the wall, giving Tommy a pat on the shoulder an a, "I'm proud'a ya, kid," before stalking out of the room.

"We're _totally _staying for this," Billy said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes as he grinned at his twin. "The ice cream you make _is _amazing, when you don't blow it up. Although really, how you made the atoms of the _ice_ explode that one time but not the salt or the ice cream itself and end up getting salty strawberry ice cream all over us and the room..."

"I liked that particular accident," Teddy admitted, grinning.

"Yeah, because you got to suck salty strawberry ice cream off Billy's face," Tommy said, rolling his eyes and then doubling over, pretending to throw up.

Wanda laughed lightheartedly, the tears from earlier drying on her face. "I think I'd like to see this ice cream endeavor myself."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Y<strong>**es, Tommy distracted everyone with ice cream. But hey, there was _some _emotional talking. They tried.  
><strong>

*_ALL-NEW X-FACTOR (2014) #12 **- **_**(In which Pietro confessed to what he'd done in the _Son of M _series. His daughter and his fans are all so proud of him! And Steve and Pietro used to have a pretty close relationship – as close of a friendship as Pietro ever had with _anyone _besides his sister – and Steve was almost an older brother kind of figure to Pietro, so I figured he'd be proud of the speedster too. I just read the issue the other day so had to include a mention of it. Because.)**

**_UNCANNY AVENGERS (2012)_ **- (which I only read the first few issues of, and as such do not feel comfortable writing this new group of Avengers, but I figured I should make reference to it.)  
><strong>

**Oh, and Magneto in his new Magneto comics? Best. Inner monologues. Ever. **


	87. The Past Keeps Pulling Me Back

**AN: This is for Ophelia Lokisdottir, who wanted a chapter where Tommy unloaded his angst on Billy rather than just seeing if he'd listen.  
><strong>

**And I know how she likes angst, so here's over five thousand words of pure angsty goodness, with some whump thrown in in the beginning for good measure, and a little bit of sickeningly sweet fluff at the end to heal a bit of the broken feels.  
><strong>

**The title (and a good deal of inspiration) for this chapter comes from the song "Razor's Edge" by Digital Daggers.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>The Past Keeps Pulling Me Back, Distorting the Future <em>(talk to me)<em>**

It had been an especially bad night. And that was probably the world's greatest understatement.

Memories and fears all tangled together in nightmares, a bloody scream chocking up from Tommy's lungs to be bit back behind his teeth, forced back down his throat to catch in his airways and obstruct his breath. Panic flooded through his veins like a shot of adrenalin plunged straight into his heart as if it had stopped beating, and there were tears in his green eyes obscuring his vision into a surreal blurriness that made the world smear and bleed like a wet watercolor painting tipped on its side.

Tommy flung himself out of bed like someone tossing themselves desperately out the window of a burning building, then dragged himself across the floor while his brain had still not come to terms with the fact that his legs weren't actually broken and useless and smearing blood across the floor.

He tried to draw air into his lungs but couldn't seem to, an odd sort of strangling noise wrenching itself from his throat, and in his desperation to get outside he ended up coiling his legs under him enough to charge into the sliding glass doors that led out to the small balcony—he didn't register the glass through all the tears—shattering the doors with sheer superspeed velocity alone, crumbling to a heap on a bed of razor-edged shards on the balcony, heaving ragged breaths of rank city air as he suddenly realized that he could breathe.

Pain signals shot through his nerves at the myriads of bleeding cuts on his body, and scrabbling to his feet he hurriedly ripped away the glass shards from his skin even as he vaulted over the balcony railing and plummeted down, hitting the ground running.

He ran and he ran and he ran and ran ran _ran _as fast as he could, no direction, just running and parkouring his way over, around or through any obstacles, not really seeing where he was going, just _running, _blind in his need to get away, to get far far _far away. _

But he couldn't get away. Because what he was trying to run from was inside his head, and no matter how far and how fast and how furiously he ran, the memories and fears were _still there _and he _couldn't leave it all behind _no matter how hard he _tried. _

And oh how he _tried. _

He didn't even realize that he wasn't wearing shoes, and that all he had on were the boxer shorts and baggy t-shirt he'd been sleeping in, already ripped and torn from crashing through the glass, and they just kept getting abused as he ran through forests and brushlands and concrete cities.

He felt insane, everything sharp and defined and lurid, bombarded with so many sights and scents and tastes and sensations that his mind couldn't seem to make sense of, like a four-dimensional puzzle where the pieces just _wouldn't fit together _no matter how he tried every possibility, shifting them into every possible combination.

Reality and nightmare blended together like fruit in a blender, impossible to distinguish.

No matter how far he ran, he was still in danger, was still being chased, was still trying to find that which had perished before his eyes.

He ran for his life. He ran for every life he'd thought he could save but couldn't. He ran like he was racing the end of all days. He ran like his life and the lives of everybody he wished he didn't care for but did anyway were dependent on it.

He ran like he could leave behind the past, like he could transcend realities if he could just move _fast _enough.

_Faster, Thomas! FASTER! You can be faster—you NEED to be faster! _

He ran until he absolutely could not run any farther, and collapsed to the ground, a bleeding, aching, trembling, sobbing mess.

He could have just laid there and waited for the end, but Tommy was never one to give up—so desperately, with everything he had, he started pushing himself back up off the ground.

* * *

><p>Billy glanced at his watch, frown deepening. Where the hell was Tommy? Tommy was supposed to have been there ten minutes ago.<p>

The two of them were going to go out for one of their brotherly bonding outings—because everybody _still_ said that they needed to do those, even though Billy was pretty damn sure that their brotherly relationship was about as close as it was ever going to get—and this time it had been Billy's turn to choose what they did, so they were going to go shopping and then maybe get coffee or ice cream or something afterwards, because Billy liked shopping for new clothes and Tommy actually had descent fashion sense even if he claimed that he absolutely hated shopping. And Tommy always needed new shoes, he wore through them so fast.

But no matter _how _much Tommy hated shopping, he wouldn't have skipped—Billy was pretty sure that Tommy secretly enjoyed their outings no matter how much he bitched about them—and there was no reason why Tommy would be ten minutes late. Tommy was _never _late.

But Billy had waited, growing more and more anxious with each passing second his twin didn't show. He'd even called the Avengers to ask if there was some huge supervillain battle going on that he didn't know about.

But nope, there was no action today.

So where w_as _Tommy? What the hell was keeping him?

Maybe he'd forgotten?

That was unlike Tommy—he may have a ridiculously short attention span, but his memory was astounding.

Ten minutes. That may have been nothing for a normal person, but Tommy being ten minutes late was like a normal person being an hour late, at _least. _

That was it—something had happened. Fear had gripped its claws around Billy's chest.

He'd already tried Tommy's phone, but apparently it was off.

Billy couldn't help but remember what had happened to Tommy the _last _time he'd been late to something, when he'd almost gotten recaptured by Juvie.

Something awful had happened, Billy could feel it in his gut, cold and heavy and nauseating, and he retreated into one of the mall's bathroom stalls to start a scrying spell.

He would have done so earlier, but after what happened with Juvie Billy had been so concerned about Tommy's whereabouts at all times that he'd practically been scrying for Tommy every five minutes the speedster was out of his sight, and Tommy had gotten furious and yelled at Billy that he could take care of himself and Billy didn't need to worry about him like he was a goddamned toddler, and Billy had yelled back about being concerned, and there'd been more yelling on both their parts, but then Teddy had stepped in to mediate and the argument had basically ended with the agreement that Billy wouldn't start scrying for Tommy's whereabouts unless he was late by over fifteen minutes.

And well, it had only been eleven, now, but Billy couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going down, so he started casting the spell four minutes early.

Not that it ended up doing him much good—he couldn't get a location on Tommy, it was like—Tommy was simultaneously showing up as _nowhere _and _everywhere._

Billy frowned, eyes blazing a frigid white-hot blue, like two young stars in his sockets.

That meant that Tommy was running around the world. Usually when Tommy was running, he appeared on Billy's magical radar in bright blue scribbling lines, like someone waving a laser-pointer around in the dark, but this wasn't defined lines—this was more like a blue haze, like his magic could sense that Tommy was on the planet but couldn't even begin to pinpoint where.

This was a problem—this didn't feel like a casual run, it felt _wrong, _but there wasn't much Billy could do when Tommy was running around many times faster than the speed of sound.

He had no choice but to wait until Tommy stopped.

Which could take a while. And Billy was _not _going to continue scrying in a disgusting mall bathroom stall, so he teleported back to his room, made sure the door was closed and locked and then sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes open and glowing as he concentrated.

It felt like forever, but it couldn't have been more than ten minutes later when the blue beacon that was Tommy finally came to a halt, somewhere in what was probably Russia.

No sooner had Tommy's position solidified, Billy was teleporting there, praying that Tommy didn't run off again.

* * *

><p>The sight that met Billy made his heart shatter.<p>

Tommy was in the middle of the desolate tundra on all fours, head bowed and limbs trembling as he tried desperately to push himself back to his feet. He was hardly wearing anything, just tattered shorts and what had once been a shirt but was no nothing more than strips of torn fabric around his chest, and Tommy himself was... oh _gods _but he was a huge bloody _mess, _covered in lacerations all over his face and arms and torso and legs and his _feet... _fuck, his feet were torn to _shreds. _

Billy wanted to cry or scream or puke or maybe all three, but he just called, _"Tommy!" _and knelt at his twin's side, pulling the speedster into his arms and beginning to murmur, _"Iwanthimtoheal. Iwanthimtoheal. Iwanthimtoheal. Iwanthimtohealandbeokay. Iwanthimtohealandbeokaysofuckingbad. Iwanthimtocalmdownandbeokay. Iwanthimtoheal. Iwanthimtoheal. Iwantusbothtobewarm. Iwanthimtoheal. Iwantusbothtobewarm."_

He had to add the bit about being warm as he realized that they were in the middle of the Russian tundra and it was _freezing, _even if the ground was covered in grasses rather than snow. But the mountains in the distance wore white like tiger stripes, and it was _cold, _which was _not _good.

Tommy's wounds healed in front of Billy's glowing blue eyes, and presently the speedster gave a painless gasp and collapsed completely into Billy's arms, no longer trembling, just... exhausted.

Magic keeping them warm, it was actually surprisingly comfortable on the ground.

Billy pulled his twin closer, all the way onto his lap, carding his fingers through the speedster's niveous hair.

"Dammit, Tommy, _what happened?" _

Tommy gave a little whimper and pressed closer against him, eyes clenched shut, breathing still harder than it should be.

"Tommy..." Billy sighed, fingers brushing through his hair, over and over and over, soothingly. "Talk to me, okay?"

Taking a moment to look around, Billy realized that they were essentially in the middle of nowhere. Just an expanse of greenish and reddish grasses as far as the eye could see, mountains lifting from the flatland in the distance, the sky a dark, lonely blue, powdered with gray-white clouds. Not a living creature in sight.

It was the very definition of desolation. Which was oddly fitting, given the circumstances.

"Tommy, say something. Please." Billy wasn't begging, but... alright, he was begging. His heart was still hammering fearfully in his chest, horror was still acrid and dry in his mouth.

"Billy?" Tommy's voice was so tentative, his eyes cracking open to look at him almost disbelievingly, almost hopefully, and that expression and that voice were so decidedly _not-Tommy _that Billy felt sobs leap into his throat like sparks off a flare.

"Tommy," Billy said again, softly, because this was all so alien and dammit, he was _scared. _"What happened?"

"You're alive," Tommy said, and if Billy had thought his heart couldn't possibly hurt any more then he was horribly wrong.

"Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be alive?"

"I—I can't tell what's real or not," Tommy stammered, arms around Billy's neck and head resting on Billy's collar bones, "sometimes—the—the nightmares feel so _real_, and I—I couldn't tell when I woke up, and—it was all sort of blurring together and—and I _failed, _Billy," he said tremulously, starting to shake again, clutching Billy tighter, "I failed so _horribly, _and—I fucked up, I _always _fuck up—I—I try to tell myself otherwise, but I _do _always fuck up, and—and they were _all _right about me, what they told me—"

Billy held him close, rubbing soothing circles into the hysterical speedster's back. He kept his voice calm and soft. "What did they tell you?"

"They—_shit,"_ Tommy pulled back to rub at his eyes, fixing his twin with a red-rimmed watery green gaze, "all my life I've been trying to prove _wrong_ what they said, that I'm—I'm a _freak,_ a _failure_, a _monster,_ that I'd never add up to anything—that I, that I'm _no good, _I'm _dangerous_, I'm not human, I'm a _weapon_, I'm no good for anything _else,_ I'm—"

Tommy drew in a gasping breath."They all _told _me, I always fuck up, I destroy everything I touch, I—fuck, I'm a _superhero, _but—I'm the _fastest being on_ _Earth _and I still can't outrun my past."

Tommy coughed up a laugh, lips pulling apart to reveal teeth with an acerbic bitterness. "The past, it—keeps pulling me back—pulling me _under_—I try so hard to move _forward_, but—"

Tommy hid his face in his hands, trembling, and Billy pulled the speedster back against him.

"Juvie came back to haunt me," Tommy mumbled despondently, "and I can't help but wonder what _else—_they—they said I'd _never escape _and I didn't believe them—I _don't _believe them, but—_shit,_ Billy," Tommy looked up into his twin's face with tears tracking down his face, "you were _dead! _You were dead and I _killed you! _And I—" he buried his face back in the witch's collar, "I didn't _mean _to, but I got you _killed_, and my—my _legs, _I couldn't run—I _couldn't—" _

"Shh, Tommy," Billy murmured, trying not to show how alarmed he felt as he brushed white hair back behind the speedster's ear, "I'm alive, I'm okay. I'm _here." _

"I _know," _Tommy laughed in that cold, humorless way he seemed to have perfected, "but I—it's so hard to feel _alive," _he stared at his brother with wide green eyes in a pale face framed by pale hair, looking almost like a ghost, "but I've got to, I've got to know that I'm _alive, _and sometimes I don't feel—"

Tommy shook his head, looking down to run fingernails lightly up his own arm, saying in a way that was somehow both wistful and haunted, "The pain hurts, but it made me feel _alive, _and the memories are so _real _and I—"

Billy couldn't keep the alarm and budding horror from his features, and Tommy laughed at him.

"I _remember," _Tommy continued, grinning as if, if he just went through all the motions of _looking _happy and okay, he could convince himself that he actually _was_, and he wouldn't fall apart, "and sometimes the memories feel more real than what's actually happening—"

He paused for a moment, tilting his head as he considered his twin. He reached up a hand to brush dark hair from Billy's stricken face. "I get why you're so _afraid, _Billy. _Fuck,_ I think that if I had _your_ powers I would have done a Wanda and fucked up the world already." He laughed, and this time there was actually mirth in the sound. "It's a good thing you've got the magic, bro," he continued, patting the side of Bill's face with a grin, "and I've just got—I've just got _speed, _and—"

Tommy shook his head and glanced down, full on snickering now. "And you'd think just being _fast _would be harmless, right? But it's _not—_and people just don't _get _it, all the things that I _could _do that I _don't—" _

He couldn't seem to stop laughing, the sound bitter and harsh and baleful. "I mean, I could punch someone in the face over a hundred times over in the time it takes them to _blink. _Could you just _imagine _what would happen if I was infected by a zombie or vampire virus or something?" His grin was predatory. "_Shit," _he huffed another sinister laugh, "I could have the _entire planet _infected before the media even got news of what was going on."

"..." Billy meant to try and say something, but no words formed. He... hadn't ever _considered _something like that, really.

And yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he and Tommy were so eerily similar, more so than they'd even realized. The fear and latent power they both carried within them...

But Tommy was far from done talking. Now that he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop, inertia carrying him onwards. "I'm a walking disaster—no, fuck that, I'm a _running _disaster, I'm just—" he shook his head, argent hair falling back into his face, "dammit, Billy, I've _killed people!" _

He pinned Billy's gaze with his own, watching the witch's reaction.

"'Avengers don't kill,'" Tommy recited. He looked at Billy, tilting his head, eyes piercing, gauging. "I've killed people, therefore I'm not Avenger. I've _killed people_, Billy," he stressed, when the witch's face remained shocked and disbelieving, "and I don't regret it."

Billy just stared at him, and Tommy snarled, shoving the mage in the chest, saying almost hysterically, "You should _hate me!" _

He tried to scramble away, but Billy wrapped his arms around the speedster, keeping him there, and Tommy was so exhausted he couldn't fight back, giving up and collapsing against twin.

"By your own morals you should hate me," Tommy said, hiding his face in his hands and refusing to look at his brother. "I'm not a good person, bro—I'm really not. And just—you grew up in a family that _loves _you. Do you—" Tommy hissed breath through his fingers, "can you even _imagine _what it's like to live in a house where your parents fight each other all the time, they're either yelling at each other or they're yelling at you—or they're _hitting _you, and you have to learn to run just to _survive_, have to learn to steal just to get enough to _eat, _and then get sent to Juvie a few times just for trying to get enough to eat, for trying to stay alive?"

Tommy laughed again, bitter and mirthless, a sound that Billy was coming to hate.

"Did you know—" Tommy continued, "the super-juvie you broke me out of, that wasn't my first stint in prison—I was in and out since middle school. And then—can you even _imagine_ what it feels like to have your parents divorce and then fight over who _doesn't_ have to _end up_ with you because they both _hate you_ so much?" Tommy shuddered with lightning-fast sobs.

"And just—" he breathed in harshly, "_shit, _Billy, before you and the other Young Avengers broke me out of prison, everybody in my entire life had always told me I was _worthless—_everybody _except for_ the doctors at Juvie—the doctors who tortured and experimented on me were also the first people to tell me that I could actually _amount _to something—all my life I'm told I'm nobody, and then these doctors cut me open and run me ragged and make me kill other mutant kids like me, and they tell me that I'm _perfect, _that I have the potential to be one of the most _powerful mutants alive," _Tommy said brokenly, fingers clenching in his bangs. "How _fucked up _is that?!"

Billy just made a noise in the back of his throat and held the speedster tighter.

"And so, I mean," Tommy continued, fingers unclenching in his hair and hands sliding down his face so that his fingers were now on his nose and on either side of his eyes, palms hiding the lower half of his face, "becoming a superhero is the best thing that ever happened to me, and—I want so hard to be _good _and to save the world and save people's lives and not—not—" he shuddered, looking at his brother with lost green eyes, "what if I just _snap? _What if—"

Tommy shook his head violently, hands lowering to clench in his lap, knuckles as colorless as his hair. "Billy, I've _killed people, _and I should probably just be locked up forever, but—dammit if I don't _want _to—I _want _to be a superhero, Billy," he chuckled wryly, "I'm _selfish_ and like beating the shit out of people that deserve it and I would kill again if I had to, and I—" his breath caught roughly in his chest, "the law is gonna catch up to me one day, the past is gonna creep up and take me under, pulling me back from all this progress that I've made, and—_fuck," _he glanced up, eyes wild, "I could run _forever, _if I have to, but—but I _can't," _his body was wracked with convulsions, "because no matter how _far_ or how_ fast_ I run, it still—don't you _understand_ why it's so hard for me to accept that you actually _care_ about me?!"

He stared accusingly into Billy's anguished brown eyes. "I'm not the kind of person that you care about!" Tommy hissed. "I'm not _comfortable _with being cared about, and I don't _deserve _it!"

Tommy crumpled, hands creeping up the back of his head to clench in his achromatic locks, tugging at them. "Shit, Billy," he breathed, clenching his eyes tightly shut, "the world is so _slow, _and everything is so _frustrating, _and people are so _stupid _and _pathetic, _and I'm so much _better _than everyone," he laughed, "I'm _faster _and—I like saving people, but I don't really care about their _lives, _I don't care if they die—I just don't want them to die in a way that _I _could have prevented, I don't want any villains to get the best of me like that because they're pathetic _snails _and I'm _better _than them—I'm—" Tommy buried his face against Billy's chest, "I'm doing the right thing for all the _wrong reasons_."

A shuddering gasp of breath and Tommy leaned away, brushing the white hair out of his face as he stared at his brother's conflicted expression. "I know you tell me that I have feelings and that I _care," _Tommy continued, lips twitching so fast that Billy probably didn't notice, "but—I don't even know if I _know _how to care," he laughed, tried to pull away, but Billy just held him tighter, and Tommy snapped at him, "And _you! Don't! Make! Sense!" _

He pushed at Billy, struggled violently, finally managing to free himself despite his weakened condition, crawling a few feet before collapsing onto the cold grassy ground and curling into a ball there when he couldn't manage the strength to stand.

"Tommy!" Billy cried, hurrying over and wrapping his arms around the shivering speedster, pulling him close again.

"Look, I—" Tommy ground out, managing to push himself into a sitting position, arms around his legs, Billy still hugging around his shoulders, and Tommy rested his head on his knees. "I—I understand why you and the others saved me the other day—" his body shook, whether in laughter or sobs it was impossible for Billy to tell, even when Tommy looked up, face adorned by a grin as well as glistening tears, "hell, if _I_ were you guys _I _wouldn't want me in the hands of evil dudes who would turn me into a weapon against you, but—" his voice got harder as he saw Billy's mournful and compassionate expression, "why the hell are you looking at me like that?!"

He didn't even give Billy the chance to answer before barging on, tucking his legs beneath him and leaning in to jab a finger against the mage's chest as he snapped, "I don't need any _pity, _Kaplan—" green eyes flashed, "I'm not some poor abused _puppy—_I _deserved_ what I got, I had it coming and I could handle it, I can handle the pain, and it made me _better—" _he raised his chin defiantly,_"_it made me stronger, faster, smarter—I know I sound like I'm complaining and shit, but I'm _not—_I wouldn't change a single thing that happened to me."

Billy's eyes were wide, Tommy's eyes were narrowed, expression almost challenging. "I wouldn't. Not a single thing. I just—" he laughed wryly, leaning back to wipe at his traitorous eyes that kept leaking water despite how much he hated crying and despite the fact that he was probably too dehydrated to be losing that water, if his dry, cracking lips and parched throat that made his words rasp were any indication, "I just don't want everything that happened to me to keep me from moving forward—I don't want pathetic inferior _snails _to ever get the chance to touch me again, to repurpose me for their own use—they think they can _control_ _me?" _

Fury and recalcitrance darkened his pale features.

"I'm the _embodiment _of Speed," Tommy hissed, "I'm—heh," he broke off into a laugh, strikingly gleeful in contrast with the emotions on his face hardly a second ago, "I'm the _twin _of the fucking _Demiurge, _so that's gotta say something about _my _power, right?"

He grinned at Billy. "If we balance each other out then we both have to have powers close to equal in strength 'cuz otherwise we wouldn't be _twins _now would we? We're just—" he rolled his eyes in that familiar way of his that was just so _Tommy _it made Billy want to whoop with joy.

"We're _opposites, _I guess," Tommy continued, looking at his twin edgewise, "and I know you were telling me that you're afraid of breaking stuff, but at least your magic doesn't _just _destroy stuff—with your powers you can _create, _too," Tommy pointed out, smirking slightly as he tapped a confused-looking Billy on the forehead. "I think that's really the main thing about magic: _creation. _While superspeed?"

Tommy gestured at himself with a self-deprecating grin, "Superspeed is only _good _for destruction—for blowing things up, for breaking through things, for—for running away—"

Tommy shook his head, looking up at his twin with a strange kind of wry frustration, breathing out, _"Fuck,_ Billy, sometimes I just wish I could just run away from the world, just run and never stop, just run and run and run till I find someplace better where things aren't so _fucked up." _

Glancing down, Tommy's fingers curled in his hair again, head bowed.

"Billy, you're so _good," _Tommy said quietly, "you—we're twins, right?" He didn't look up, gaze firmly on the the grass poking up between his mostly-bare legs. "There's all those cliches or whatever—but if we're opposites, then you're the angel and I'm the devil, sort of thing, you know?"

He lifted his eyes to meet his brother's, pursing his lips at Billy's expression. "The way you're looking at me—you don't want to believe me, do you?" Tommy lifted his chin, gaze turning daring. "You don't want to believe that I'm a bad person because all you see is the _good _in people, and maybe there's some good in me, yeah, but I'm mostly bad and you don't _see that." _Tommy grit his teeth, frustrated. "You're just—"

Tommy laughed again. "I act cool because I _am _cool," he said, conceited, bordering on egocentric. "I _am _awesome. But—" and then the self-loathing slipped in again, and he looked down at his palms, hands trembling, blinking rapidly to try to quell the tears that insisted on racing each other down his cheeks, dripping from his nose, from his chin, drops of water landing in his open palms.

"This stupid slow world is out to get me," Tommy whispered, "and I just wanna _run." _

Billy laid a hand on Tommy's arm, expression seeming to say _let me help you, _and the speedster was looking at him again, glaring.

"Billy, you can't take this pain from me," Tommy said, low and rasping, deadly serious. "I don't want it _gone. _I _need _this pain," he said forcefully, "I need it to be _me_, I need these problems and I need this flawed perfection, and I don't want your _pity, _and I didn't tell you all this shit just so you could coddle me or be protective or crap like that, because I've been taking care of myself my whole life and I won't let you take that _away _from like so much _else _has been taken from me, and I don't need any _special care _or stupid crap and I will seriously _kill you _if you try, but I just wanted you to _know_—" Tommy broke off with a laugh at Billy's intransigent expression.

"You can't _fix _me, bro," Tommy told him, a smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes, "because I'm not _broken. _I'm just intrinsically _fucked up." _

Billy watched him with a perplexed and mournful frown, brows creased and eyes concerned.

Tommy watched the mage back, grin gleeful but eyes desperately searching, like a criminal waiting to hear their verdict by jury and judge.

"You did say that you wanted me to unload my angst on you, Wiccan," Tommy pointed out, smirking tiredly in a way that said: _I knew you wouldn't like this but hey you asked for it. _"Be careful what you wish for, huh?"

Billy just looked at him, lost.

Tommy got his feet under him, stood unsteadily, stumbled, managed to keep upright. "Well," he said to Billy, glancing around at the frigid tundra, "thanks for not letting me freeze out here, I guess."

Tommy swayed, unbalanced, and Billy shot up to catch him. "Oh _Tommy," _Billy said, burying his face in his twin's soft white hair, arms around the speedster's bare chest, supporting him.

Tommy's arms reluctantly came up around his neck.

They stayed there in silence for several minutes, Tommy trying to keep his exhaustion from dragging him down into unconsciousness, Billy trying to find the right words to respond to Tommy's rant.

How the hell was he supposed to go about addressing all that... all that anger and hatred and pain and pride?

"Tommy, I love you," he settled on finally, unable to find any truer words. "I still love you, even knowing about what your life's been like. We're _twins, _Tommy. I'm never going to stop loving you, no matter _what _happens. Know that. I'll _always_ love you. I'll always be here for you."

Billy felt his twin relax in his arms, felt the warm sigh of relief against his neck.

"You're an idiot, Maximoff," Tommy murmured.

And just the fact that Tommy had called him 'Maximoff' rather than 'Kaplan' told Billy all that he needed to know.

"Yes, but I'm an idiot that you're stuck with," Billy said, smiling into his brother's hair. "Whether you want to be stuck with me or not. You're never getting rid of me."

A beat of silence.

"Billy?" came Tommy's voice, weakly.

"Yeah?"

"IthinkI'mgonnapassout," the speedster breathed, trembling in Billy's arms. "Fromrunningtoohard."

"It's okay, you can pass out," Billy said, tightening his arms around Tommy's waist to let his twin know that he had him. "I've got you." Billy's eyes started glowing blue, and he said, "I'm gonna take us home, Tommy. Okay?"

Tommy nodded against the mage's neck. "Mmhmm."

A flash of blue, a tug at the back of his navel, a rush of darkness, and Billy was back in his own room at the Kaplanses', his limp and unconscious twin in his arms.

Billy maneuvered his brother's body onto the bed, getting in beside Tommy and pulling the blankets up over them, snuggling against the speedster.

He wasn't tired and he doubted he would be able to fall asleep, but he wanted to be there when Tommy woke up.

If only to prove to his twin just how much he'd meant what he said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It's really hard to make Tommy act angsty. I had to make him totally snap to get him to talk. Ihavenocontrolofthesecharactersseriouslytheyhavemindsoftheirown I just stick them in situations and see how they react. <strong>


	88. Morning in the Late Afternoon

**AN: This is a direct follow-up to the previous chapter.  
><strong>

**In which Tommy doesn't dwell and he doesn't slow down. **

* * *

><p><span><strong>Morning in the Late Afternoon (this is the first day of the rest of your life)<strong>

Tommy's eyes opened, and for a split second he didn't know where he was. This was... Billy's room? What the hell was he doing in Billy's room?

He tried to sit up, but there was something on his chest, holding him down.

"Oh hey, you're awake," Billy said, lifting his head from Tommy's chest to smile softly at him. "Did you sleep well?"

Everything came rushing back to Tommy like a flashflood, and his eyes widened. "Fucking _shit," _he groaned, letting his head fall back, hands coming up to rub hard at his eyes.

"Oy," Billy said, sitting up besides the speedster and grabbing his hands, pulling them away from his face. "It's okay."

"It is _not _okay," Tommy snapped, glaring at the mage. "This is _not _okay."

Billy bit his lip. "Why don't we go downstairs and you can get some breakfast? You'll feel better after breakfast." He glanced at the glowing red digital clock on his dresser. "Or, I guess lunch or dinner, since it's like four in the afternoon. Whatever you want to call it."

Tommy raised his eyebrows, and Billy grinned at him, continuing, "But at the Kaplans house we offer 24-hour breakfast food! Breakfast is the best. I'm in the mood for some pancakes, myself."

"Yeah," Tommy said, smirking as he sat up. "Let's go get some breakfast." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, reaching his arms up above his head and arching his back till it cracked so loud that Billy winced.

Tommy laughed at him, then proceeded to crack everything else that would possibly crack—his back in a few other ways, his neck, his shoulders, elbows, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, toes.

"Dammit, Tommy!" Billy cried, covering his ears and shuddering. "Is there any part of you that _doesn't _crack?"

"Nope," Tommy grinned, before dashing over to rifle through Billy's closet and drawers, pulling out a random pair of black sweatpants, a close-fitting blue t-shirt, and a gray hoodie. "Now c'mon, I hear pancakes and eggs calling! And bacon, maybe? Wait—Jews don't eat bacon, do they? Pancakes and eggs it is. Maybe we can make chocolate chip pancakes? Will your mom let us use the kitchen? We could always go out somewhere—"

"Nah, it's okay, we can use the kitchen," Billy said as he grabbed onto his twin's arm, pulling the speedster out of his room and down the hall to the stairs. "My family's actually out right now, 'cuz my younger brothers have an event at their school or something. I don't quite remember—Mom told me through the door, and I was thinking about stuff and not paying a whole lot of attention."

"Actually I changed my mind," Tommy declared as they entered the kitchen. "Let's make French toast."

"I liked the idea of chocolate chip pancakes," Billy said, as Tommy got the French toast ingredients together.

"Chocolate chip French toast, then," Tommy said, beating egg, vanilla and cinnamon in a shallow dish, glancing over at his brother with a grin before stirring in the milk.

Billy raised his dark eyebrows. "How does _that _work?"

"I dunno," Tommy shrugged, "Let's find out!" He blurred and returned with a pack of chocolate chips, the plastic making a crinkling noise, chocolate chips knocking against each other.

"Nah," Billy said, grabbing the pack of chocolate chips from his twin, "let's just make regular French toast." His lips quirked. "We can just use chocolate sauce instead of maple syrup."

"And whipped cream!" Tommy hooted, having turned on the top of the stove and set on a frying pan, dipping the bread slices in the egg mixture before flopping them onto the skillet.

"That isn't going to be a very nutritional breakfast," Billy remarked as he came over to turn the heat down on the stove so the toast wouldn't catch on fire or something.

"French toast has eggs," Tommy pointed out. "That's nutritional!"

"Yeah, but it's mostly gonna be sugar if we had chocolate syrup and whipped cream," Billy said with a roll of his eyes.

"So?" Tommy asked, looking at him.

Billy chuckled. "Good point."

"Ha!" Tommy declared triumphantly, turning the pieces of French toast over in the pan, their tops now lightly browned. The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla egg toast filled the kitchen.

"We should at least add some fruit though," Billy said, wandering over to the fridge and inspecting the contents. "I think we have some raspberries and blueberries or some—dude," he broke off, as a piece of French toast sailed over his head, and Tommy dashed across the room to catch the wayward piece of bread on a plate, "careful!"

"I'm always careful," Tommy huffed, setting the plate down on the counter and sauntering his way back over to the pan, poking the cooking pieces of toast with a fork impatiently.

"No, you're not," Billy said as he closed the fridge and leaned against it to cross his arms and narrow his eyes at his brother.

"I am!" Tommy protested indignantly, waving the fork in the air.

Billy lifted his chin challengingly. "Then how did you get in the battered state I found you in this morning?"

Tommy looked at him for a moment, before glancing away, turning back to the cooking toast and fiddling with knob that adjusted the flames. "Okay, fine, I'm not careful. I tend to break stuff."

"Including yourself, apparently," Billy said rather bitterly.

"Fuck you," Tommy snapped, turning to glare at him, crossing his arms to unconsciously mirror the pose of his twin. "I can take care of myself."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "Tommy..."

"I _can!" _Tommy's eyes flashed, body tensing defensively.

"No, I just..." Billy sighed in exasperation, a hand raking back through his black hair. "Look, finding you like that... it really scared me." He looked at the speedster with a pained expression. "You looked _awful_, Tommy, I thought maybe you were _dying. _You keep getting yourself into these _situations, _and," he took a breath, rubbing both hands alongside his face before meeting Tommy's gaze again. "It's _terrifying," _he said seriously. "And you keep trying to handle everything alone, and I understand that you've lived most of your life with no-one to rely on but yourself, but it doesn't have to be that way anymore. Just..."

Tommy looked at him with apprehension, and Billy tried for a smile. _"Come to me_ next time, okay?"

The speedster glanced down. "Yeah, sure," he said, shrugging.

Suddenly he registered a sizzling sound and the scent of burning toast.

His eyes widened and he whirled around to the stove, quickly flipping the soaked pieces of bread over. "ShittheFrenchtoastburnt!"

Billy hurried over to adjust the dial, turning the flames down so that they were entirely blue rather than leaping against the pan with orange tongues, saying, "That's 'cuz you turned the heat on too high!"

Tommy smiled at him sheepishly. "Oops?"

* * *

><p>After their late afternoon breakfast, during which Tommy had eaten his sugary pieces of French toast at dizzying speeds and then spent the time waiting for Billy to hurry up and finish by folding a piece of paper and playing air-hockey across the table with himself, they started cleaning up and Billy asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"<p>

"It's still early," Tommy said, grinning and stealing Billy's cellphone from the dresser in the witch's room, checking the internet. "Let's go find a concert or something!" His fingers swiped across the screen, flew across the keys, and after a couple minutes he grinned triumphantly, dashing over to wave the phone in front of his twin's face. "Dude, there's a free concert. In _San Francisco._ Golden Gate Park. We can run on the Golden Gate Bridge. Let's go! You can bring your boyfriend." Billy looked excited, and Tommy grinned at him. "Let's bring more people. I'll run over and invite David, you text Kate and Noh and America."

"What about Loki?" Billy asked as he pulled out his phone.

"What about him?" Tommy said, shrugging. "I don't know anything about the dude—I've met him, like, once. And I thought you said he left the Young Avengers."

"He did, but..." Billy frowned down at his phone, thumbs tapping across the screen. "I'll text him anyway. Can't hurt, right?"

"Sure," Tommy said, not really listening, taking their dirty dishes to the sink and turning on the faucet, grabbing a sponge and dish soap, beginning to scrub the dish like the fate of the world depended on it. "Gotta go stop by my apartment and get some of _my _clothes—most everything in your closet is black and red, it's ridiculous! And those are just _not _my colors, and I'm not going out in your sweatshirt and sweatpants, so—"

He was being rather exuberant in his scrubbing, and a wet plate that he'd set on the counter a little too hard slid off and fell to the floor with a _crash! _

"Awwplateno!" he said, glancing down at the shattered ceramic plate on the floor, crinkling his nose in annoyance. "Shit, sorry bro," he apologized, not doing anything about the shattered plate and turning back to scrubbing the rest of the dishes, "and I think Clint's been hanging around the Avengers too much, he's starting to infect me. Or maybe he infected you and then you infected me. You can fix the plate, right?"

"Yeah," Billy said with a sigh, eyes glowing faintly blue as he waved a hand and fixed the plate, levitating it back onto the drying rack. "But could you stop getting dishwater everywhere?"

"Everywhere?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around at his wet hoodie, the wet counter, the wet floor, the wet window, the droplets of water flying up as he scrubbed. "I'm not getting dishwater _everywhere." _With a smirk, Tommy splashed dishwater over onto his brother.

"Hey!" Billy protested indignantly, wiping the water from his face with a sleeve, giving his twin an annoyed glare. "What was that for?!"

Tommy sent him a grin, waving a wet hand flippantly and sending more droplets of water into Billy's face. "Getting dishwater everywhere."

"Careful of my phone!" Billy griped with a glare, before turning his back to his brother and turning his attention back to the small screen. "I'm texting people here."

"Dude," Tommy snorted, "if your phone's not waterproof then you've got the wrong type'a phone for a superhero on the same team as Thor. He likes to make it rain." Tommy's face lit up and he tossed a handful of dishwater into the air, singing animatedly: "Throw some glitter make it rain! Let me see them hands, letmeletme see them hands!"

"You listen to Kesha?" Billy said as he cast his brother a disbelieving look.

"Hell yeah!" Tommy said, grinning, finishing up the last of the dishes and grabbing a towel to dry his hands, before tossing the towel across the room to land on the back of a chair. "Kesha is _party _music!" he exclaimed, starting to dance as he sung, "We're dancing like we're dumb dumb d-d-d-dumb, our bodies going numb numb n-n-n-numb, we'll be forever young young y-y-y-young, you know we're A-veng-ers, we are who we aaarre!"

Billy shook his head and hid his face in his hands. "Tommy, you have _waaay _too much energy for someone who ran themselves to utter exhaustion this morning and collapsed in the middle of the Russian tundra in a bleeding mess."

"Perks of being a speedster and having a magical twin, bro," Tommy grinned, punching Billy in the shoulder. "Now c'mon, let's go get the team and hit that West Coast concert with East Coast style! And I can't wait to see Noh's face when he sees the list of artists that are gonna be playing."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Tommy is hell-bent on enjoying life to the fullest. He absolutely refused to be any more serious than this.<strong>


	89. Succorance II

**AN: Tommy & Billy brotherly fluff. Fluff fluff fluff.  
><strong>

**In which Tommy listens to Billy's instructions to "come to him next time." **

* * *

><p><span><strong>Succorance II (tell nobody about this)<br>**

"Heybro." A harsh poke in Billy's side. "Wakeup."

"Whaaa?" Billy moaned groggily, rolling over in bed to open his bleary eyes, blinking at his twin.

Tommy grinned at him. "Ohgoodyou'reawake!" He settled himself on Billy's bed, one leg pulled up and hugged to his chest, the other leg draping over the edge of the bed, foot tapping in the air.

"What're you doin' here?" Billy muttered, sitting up slightly and propping himself up on his pillows to stare sleepily at his brother.

Tommy just looked at him. "What'syourfavoritecolor?"

Billy blinked at him, then rubbed at his eyes. "What?" he asked, pinning his twin with his gaze again, brown eyes more alert this time.

"What's your favorite color?" Tommy repeated, slower. Usually Billy was pretty good at understanding him when he talked faster than normal, but the witch _had _just woken up, and he was a slowpoke, so Tommy supposed he could be cut a break. "'Cuz I realized that we're soul twins and we've known each other for over a year now, but I don't know what your favorite color is."

"You," Billy glanced at his digital clock, the red numbers glowing in the dark room, casting a dangerous light on his twin's skin and glinting on the silver stripes of Speed's suit. "You woke me up at 3:15 in the morning to ask me what my favorite color is?"

"No, actually, I had a tiny panic attack," Tommy said, shrugging one shoulder, "and I ran around a bit but it wasn't calming my mind down and you got mad at me the last time I ran myself to exhaustion and there's no way I'm going back to sleep and you told me to come to you when I feel," Tommy made a face, _"you know." _

_Yeah, I know, _read Billy's expression. Stupid empathetic idiot.

"But I don't wanna talk about the stupid thing that had me freaking out, I just wanna talk," Tommy said, looking at him gaugingly. "And I really don't know what your favorite color is. I mean, I can make a guess, but I don't _know. _Is it red, blue, or black?"

Billy looked at his brother, perched there on the edge of his bed like a bird prepared to take flight at any moment, and smiled slightly, wanting to put the speedster's nerves at ease. "My favorite color is the blue of Teddy's eyes, actually."

Tommy snorted, some of his tension disappearing. "Dude you are _nauseating. _Did you know that America told me that you and your boyfriend are the most disgusting couple she's ever encountered in the entire _multiverse?"_

"I should hope so," Billy said, pleased. "I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Tommy snorted again, a combination of derision and amusement. "I honestly dunno how I can even stand to be around you or Ted at all. You're _so_—everything I'm _not." _

"Yeah, but we're magical speedy twins," Billy pointed out with a grin, "we compliment each other."

"I do _not _compliment you," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "I insult you. You have awful hair." He reached out with a foot to poke his brother in the side, smirking, before pulling both legs onto the bed and sitting cross-legged, leaning back on his hands. "But feel free to compliment _me,_ if you want to. I deserve compliments."

Billy laughed. "Yeah, you do deserve compliments," he agreed, smiling at the speedster. "You're the best soul-twin ever, and you have a great—if usually sarcastic, wry, and dry—sense of humor."

Tommy waved a hand, preening. "Tell me something I _don't _know, bro."

"You first," Billy said as he leaned back against his pillows. "What's _your _favorite color, Speedy?"

"White, green, silver, and orange," Tommy answered immediately, laughing quietly. "Should've been obvious, bro."

"If you had to just choose _one _favorite color," Billy prodded. "One _specific _favorite color."

Tommy paused for about a second of thought. "I like the green of go-lights."

"Go-lights?" Billy asked, raising an eyebrow, though it was so dark that the only way you could tell was that the deep black shadow around his right eye changed shape. The right side of his face was highlighted by the red glow of his clock.

"Yeah, you know," Tommy said, "green traffic lights? Green means 'go.'"

Billy laughed. "So, what, I bet the red color of stop-lights are your least favorite color then, huh?"

"No, actually," Tommy said, a smirk twisting the shadow between his lips, "my least favorite color is the yellow of slow-lights."

"Oh?" Billy asked. "Why's that?"

"'Cuz stopping abruptly and going from Mach-10 to zip is fun. And so is sprinting as hard as you can from a dead-stop and seeing how fast you can go from zero to Mach-10. But being slow is just being slow which is being a normal person which would be awful."

"Okaaay then," Billy said, sounding confused but thoughtful.

"Nah, just kidding," Tommy laughed, suddenly lying on his stomach alongside his brother, though on top of the covers. "I just like the color red better than the color yellow."

That made Billy laugh, and Tommy grinned in the dark.

"So," Tommy said, "your favorite music is My Chemical Romance, right?"

"You betcha," Billy agreed, grin evident in his voice. "Yours?"

"Nightcore," Tommy answered immediately.

"Seriously?" Billy asked, laughing, burrowing under his blankets and turning on his side to face his brother.

Tommy gave a little scoff, and Billy felt the warm breath on his face. "Yeah seriously," Tommy said.

"But..." Billy protested, tired mind struggling to find the words to express his thoughts.

Tommy rolled onto his side to face his twin. "But what?" he prodded.

Billy's form beneath the piles of blankets was blocking the red light from the clock, so Tommy's body was submerged entirely in darkness, and Billy felt and heard his smirk rather than saw it.

"B-but," Billy stammered for a moment, "but _chipmunks!" _

"No, not chipmunks," Tommy laughed, amused. His breath gusted fast and warm over Billy's face. "Higher and faster."

"Chipmunks!" Billy protested indignantly.

"Squirrels," Tommy said, starting a game of Word Association.

"Squirrel Girl," Billy said, playing along.

Billy heard the raised eyebrows in Tommy's voice as he asked, "Seriously?"

"L-O-L," Billy said, laughing out loud.

"O-M-F-G." Tommy's eye-roll wasn't visible but it was audible in his tone.

"I-L-U," Billy crooned.

"I-H-U," Tommy spat, though without venom or vehemence. He sounded tired.

"Less-than-three," Billy murmured.

Tommy gave a groan and rolled onto his back to stare up at the depthless-black swath of ceiling. "You're sickening."

"If you need to throw up, don't do it in my bed," Billy said cheekily.

"L-M-F-A-O," Tommy said dully. "_Not." _

"Shift-control-u-2-6-6-5," Billy said, a smile in his voice.

"What?" Tommy asked, confused, the blankets beneath his head making a soft noise as he turned his face towards his brother.

"It's another heart that you can do on the computer," Billy told him, sounding smug.

"Seriously?" Tommy asked, turning his head to look back up at the ceiling, huffing out a swift sigh.

"Well, some computers," Billy said. "Not all of them."

"Computers are annoying," Tommy stated frankly.

Billy reached out to poke him in the shoulder, saying, "You're _crazy." _

"They'rereallyfuckingslow," Tommy told him as he retaliated by kicking the mage's leg.

"You're crazy," Billy said again, sounding something between exasperated and fond.

"Sure," Tommy said, tone suddenly weary again.

There was a pause.

"Thanks for coming to me, Tommy," Billy said earnestly, reaching a hand out from under the blankets to grab his twin's hand.

"I didn't know that you liked being woken up in the middle of the night," Tommy said sardonically, though he didn't yank his hand from his twin's grasp, actually wrapping his fingers tighter around Billy's hand.

It was pitch dark, and nobody could see if they held hands. Plausible deniability. If nobody saw it, then it didn't happen.

Tommy lived by that. If nobody saw him because he moved too fast then he wasn't there. If nobody saw his smile falter then he wasn't not-okay. If nobody saw him cry then he didn't cry and he wasn't hurt.

"Well, I don't," Billy admitted. He squeezed his twin's hand. "But I don't mind when it's you."

Tommy squeezed back. "Okay."

There were a couple minutes of silence, though they weren't empty because the night filled them like water filled a glass, the darkness creating an atmosphere of intimacy, like they were the only two people alive, holding onto each other so they didn't float away in the black, black expanse of space.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" Billy asked softly, his voice breaching the waves of silence like a porpoise.

"Nah, not really," Tommy said, voice nothing more than a whisper.

"Mm," Billy said, closing his eyes and shifting closer. It was so dark that it didn't make a difference whether his eyes were open or closed. "I might fall asleep again, then."

"Go ahead," Tommy said apathetically.

Eyes still closed, Billy ran his thumb rhythmically over the back of his twin's hand. "Do you feel better now?" he asked with compassion in his voice.

"Yeah," Tommy admitted, giving a heavy and inhumanly fast sigh, letting his muscles relax a little. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you want to come under the covers?" Billy asked, pulling his twin's hand towards him. He tried blinking, but facing away from the dim red light of the clock he couldn't for the life of him tell when his eyes were open and when they were closed. "It's warmer," he continued when he felt his brother pull back, "and I know that you get cold."

"Dude, I don't snuggle," Tommy said as he tried to get his brother to relinquish the tight grasp on his hand, sounding tired and resentful.

"I never said anything about snuggling," Billy said, reaching out his other hand to grab the speedster's with both of his. "Just, you know, conservation of body heat." His voice sounded like it came through lips that were curved in a simper. "Like birds."

"Birds," Tommy stated flatly.

"Yeah, you know," Billy said, pulling the speedster's hand to his face and nuzzling against the palm, letting Tommy feel his cheeks lift in a grin. "When birds fluff up their feathers and huddle somewhere for the night to conserve heat, and like, when they live somewhere cold sometimes it's all that keeps them alive, and if they get startled in the middle of the night and have to fly from their perch then they lose all their heat and may freeze to death. Might just be songbirds living somewhere where it gets below freezing."

"Seriously?" Tommy asked, skeptic, no doubt rolling his eyes, maybe even behind his closed eyelids, who knew whether his eyes were open or not. He might not even know, it was so dark.

"I think so," Billy said, sounding a bit unsure. "I _think_ I heard that somewhere."

"Where?" Tommy prodded challengingly.

"I-D-K," Billy admitted, somewhat sheepish. "I don't remember anymore. Maybe I made it up. Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe I actually did hear it somewhere. Maybe it was true and maybe it was false. Does it really matter?"

"Wow," was all Tommy said, tone dry.

"So," Billy said, and Tommy could feel him smiling against his hand. "Conservation of body heat?"

Tommy growled. "Fine."

"Yaaaay!" Billy said, cheeks lifting higher, and if there'd been any light in the room to be lit up, the room probably would have gotten brighter with his beam. But as it was, it was pitch-black, and Billy's smile just made the darkness feel less cold and isolating.

"But I'm stealing a pair of your pajamas," Tommy said, rolling off the bed and stepping with the lightest of footsteps to the floor, padding silently around the room to Billy's dresser. Whether his eyes were adjusted enough that he could see by the dim red light, or whether he had the layout of the room memorized, who knew.

"Yeah, sure," Billy said, rolling to watch the darker blurry shadow that was his brother's figure, pure fuzzy black against the dark red-lit black of the rest of the room. "I'm wearing my Thor Pjs, but you can have the Hawkeye ones, the Spiderman ones, or the Captain America ones." Billy was definitely smirking.

"You are _such _a geek," Tommy groaned, opening a drawer, the sound of wood rubbing against wood splitting the nighttime silence for a moment. "Fuck that—I'm just gonna steal a pair of sweats and a t-shirt." The sound of wood sliding again, the sound of rustling garments.

"And you're a dork," Billy retorted. He was probably technically watching his brother get changed, but it was so dark he couldn't make out anything except movement, and Tommy changed so fast he was probably done before Billy could even blink, anyway.

"Go to hell," Tommy said, though there was no real bane in his voice. He treaded over to the edge of the bed and hovered there, a lean, blurry black shadow.

"Been there," Billy said, scooting over in bed, lifting the edge of the blankets and giving a little shiver at the cool night air against his sleep-warmed skin. "Don't really want to go again." He waited for a moment, but Tommy just stood there. "You coming under the covers or not?" Billy asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Tommy said, slipping into bed beside his twin, the blankets collapsing over him with a reassuring weight, the fabric warmed with his brother's body heat. "Just no telling, okay? This stays between us. Magical speedy twins secret."

Despite what Tommy had said about no snuggling, Billy scooted over to him and rested his head right beside Tommy's, throwing an arm over the speedster's chest and curling against him. And despite what Tommy had said about no snuggling, Tommy didn't try to push him away, maybe even taking his twin's hand in his own and rubbing his thumb in circles over the soft skin on the back of Billy's hand.

Tommy's hair smelled of the same kind of citrus shampoo that Billy liked to use, and Billy nuzzled his face into his twin's hair, murmuring in agreement, "Magical speedy twins secret."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Totally platonic, people. Totally platonic. They're twins, they're allowed to be weirdly close in a totally platonic way. (I am scarred by the amount of twincest on AO3. Aaaahhh.) <strong>

**Billy is too sweet for his own good. I'm trying to show my Tommy softening and healing a little bit, being willing to accept some affection and social support... **


	90. Troublesome Grocery Shopping

**AN: This one's random. Consider it a break from all the painful feels and mushy fluff and stuff.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Troublesome Grocery Shopping (blame it on the doors)<strong>

Somehow Tommy, Billy, and Teddy got roped into going grocery shopping with Clint. Because Avengers Mansion needed its fridge and pantry restocked. Because a team of superheroes ate a lot. A _lot. _

This came about because Clint had gotten a hold of one of Stark's credit cards, and, looking for some Avengers better equipped to do heavy lifting than he, had stumbled upon the perfect candidates in the hang-out room.

Seriously, they were the perfect candidates.

He found Teddy and Tommy lying on the floor, each of them bench-pressing a couch.

How that had happened was all Billy's fault, really. Because Billy had been sitting on one of the couches and had decided to ask Teddy how strong he was, really, and Teddy had answered by changing into his Hulkling form and picking up the couch that Billy was sitting on, maneuvering it so that he could lie on the floor and bench-press it, with Billy still lounging there, laughing in astonishment.

And then Tommy, who had been practicing forward and backward flips on and off one of the tables, got tired of Teddy showing off, and had picked up another couch, bench-pressing the piece of furniture had superspeed.

And then Billy had asked if Tommy could bench-press a couch at a speed normal for a human being, and Tommy had snapped back that he doubted Teddy could bench-press a couch while in human form, and then Teddy suggested that they settle the matter, and Tommy accepted the challenge.

And that was how it was that Tommy and Teddy were each bench-pressing a two-seater couch at a normal speed with Teddy in human form, while Billy counted for them.

And that was the way Clint found them, with Billy saying, "Sixteen... seventeen... eighteen... nineteen..."

"Hey show-offs!" Clint called, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms as he smirked at them. "You're comin' grocery shopping with me so you can put those futzin' muscles of yours to good use and carry stuff."

"Twenty..." Billy said, glancing over at Clint. "Yeah, sure! We'll come!"

Teddy and Tommy had paused their bench-pressing, couches held above their faces.

"We will?" Tommy asked.

"Yup," Billy said.

"Fine," Tommy said, letting go of the couch and simply tucking his legs to his chest and doing a backwards roll out from under the couch before gravity could even begin to pull the piece of furniture down on top of him. "I was—"

_THUD! _landed the couch on the floor, startling Teddy into dropping the loveseat he was still holding up, and it would have fallen on him had Tommy not scooped him out from under the falling couch.

"I totally won that," Tommy said, setting Teddy on his feet and patting him on the shoulder. "You're not allowed to argue."

"Can't argue with someone too proud to accept defeat," Teddy shrugged, chuckling, and Tommy punched him in the shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but my pride is totally warranted," Tommy said, turning away and lifting his nose in the air as he swaggered over to where Clint and Billy were standing by the doorway. He turned back to the alien to say firmly, "And yes, I don't admit defeat." He narrowed his eyes. "And I don't lose!"

Teddy just grinned at him. "I never said it was a bad thing," the shapeshifter pointed out.

"Okay cool," Tommy said, smirking. "Just as long as we all know how awesome I am. Now," he turned back to Billy, who looked exasperated, and Clint, who looked amused, "somebody said something about grocery shopping. So what the hell are we waiting around for? Let's go!"

Tommy led the way down the hall, the other three following after him.

* * *

><p>"Wait," Tommy said, eyes wide, seated in next to Billy in the backseat of a van as Clint swung up into the driver's seat and Teddy sat shotgun, "Why the hell are we taking a motorized vehicle thing?!"<p>

"Because..." Clint answered, trailing off as he tried to come up with a good reason, turning the key in the ignition and pulling the van violently out into New York traffic finally settling on: "grocery shopping."

"Because grocery shopping?" Tommy asked, sounding like he wasn't sure if he'd heard right.

Billy grinned at him. "Because grocery shopping," the mage affirmed.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Tommy bolted out of the van as soon as Clint pulled into a parking spot near the grocery store, not even waiting for the archer to turn the vehicle off.<p>

"Tommy wait!" Billy called, reaching for where Tommy no longer was, sighing as his hand closed around air.

Teddy glanced back at him, shaking his head. "Too late," he said. "We better go catch up to him before he causes trouble."

"Don't worry," Clint said, getting out of the van and giving them a grin that was probably supposed to be reassuring but really actually wasn't, "things will work out fine. I'm an _expert _on trouble and getting out of it."

* * *

><p>Tommy didn't even get inside the store before he encountered a problem.<p>

Actually, getting inside the store _was _the problem. Because the grocery store had automatic sliding doors .

Tommy ran up to the doors. Nothing happened. He pushed on them. They didn't open.

Well, of course they didn't, these were the kinds of doors that slid open to the side automatically, they didn't open inwards when you pushed on them.

He jumped up and down, waving his arms.

Nothing happened.

He walked back and forth.

Why was nothing happening?! Shit, the doors were supposed to have motion sensors, right? They should open!

He spotted the motion sensor above the doors, jumping up to slap his hand over it.

Nothing nothing nothing happened. The doors _would not open. _

"_Fuck!" _Tommy cursed, walking in a circle in front of the doors and throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Then another person came up to the doors, and Tommy watched them approach, watched the doors open slowly—slowly, slowly, _so fucking slowly. _

Tommy just stared with his mouth open as the doors pulled apart millimeter by millimeter.

He ran over and stuck his fingers through the crack, waited forever more, was able to fit his hand through, waited some more forever, got his arm through.

_Fuck this! _

Tommy pulled his arm out and ran back to find the others, running a couple circles around them before stopping, eyes wide as he told them frustratedly, "FuckIreallyhatedoorslikewhatthehell?!"

Clint and Teddy looked at him in confusion, but Billy just raised his eyebrows. "Why do you hate doors?" Billy asked.

"They'reso_stupid!" _Tommy said, clutching at his hair, before dashing away.

* * *

><p>Turning to Tommy's twin who could apparently understand the crazy speedster, Clint asked, "What the hell was that about?"<p>

"Tommy hates doors because they're stupid, apparently," Billy told him.

"Maybe we'd better..." Teddy suggested, not even needing to finish before the three of them were sprinting towards the grocery store.

* * *

><p>When Tommy got back, the gap between the doors was only just large enough for him to squeeze through if he sidled through the gap sideways, and even then his back and chest would be scraping either door.<p>

Fucking _hell _the doors were _So. Damn. Slow. _

Tommy collapsed to his knees on the ground, staring at the doors in as they continued pulling apart aagggooonnniiiizzzziiiinnnnngggllllyyyyy ssssssllllllloooooooooooooooooowwwwlllllllyyyy.

What. The. Fucking. Hell.

* * *

><p>When Billy, Teddy, and Clint came up to the grocery store, they found Tommy kneeling on the cement in front of the open doors, staring forward with flat eyes and a slack jaw.<p>

"He looks bad," Clint remarked, slowing to a stop a safe several feet away from the speedster.

"Tommy?" Billy asked, kneeling next to his brother, waving his hand in front of Tommy's face. "Tommy, what—"

"Automatic sliding doors are _so _stupid!" Tommy proclaimed. He got to his feet so fast nobody saw him move, turning to glare at them, saying, "Well, what the hell are you waiting for?! Let's get this fucking shopping over with!"

"Futzing," Clint corrected, following after the white-haired boy. "You need to watch your language so you don't get me in trouble. It's _futzing _shopping that we're doing."

Billy looked at Teddy.

Teddy looked at Billy.

Teddy shrugged, and Billy shook his head and stood up.

* * *

><p>Their shopping was going quite smoothly up until the point that they ran into trouble.<p>

Well, at least, _Tommy _ran into trouble in the form of a supervillain who'd also been doing his shopping there, and the rest of the Avengers got dragged into trouble with him.

But trouble was nothing that they couldn't handle.

It was really the supervillain who had it worse, because he found himself getting thrown out the doors of the store by a speedster who was enjoying himself too much because fighting bad guys was way more fun than grocery shopping, apparently, even if he had to hunt through the entire store to find the tortillas.

Or maybe it was inaccurate to say that the supervillain was thrown _out _the doors, because he might have been thrown out of the store, but he was thrown straight _through _the doors. Or rather, he was thrown _into _the doors, and the doors broke, so then he was lying on the sidewalk on shattered class and metal door frames.

Now, strictly speaking Tommy didn't _have _to throw the bad dude _into _the doors, but really, it wasn't his fault that he needed to throw the guy out of the store but the doors wouldn't open for him and he was too impatient to wait for them to open so he could kick the guy out onto the sidewalk.

And okay, so maybe he was also looking for an excuse to do break the doors anyway, but hot _damn_ if it didn't feel incredibly satisfying. Both to throw a supervillain around, and to break the stupid fucking doors.

The world was frustrating _enough_ without containing stupid fucking doors that took eternities to open.

Oh and it knocked the bad guy out, so it was taking out two birds with one stone, really.

* * *

><p>"Tommy!" Billy said, rushing over to find the speedster standing over the unconscious villain at the entrance to the store, apparently having been thrown through the automatic sliding doors before they'd had a chance to start opening, because they'd been completely ripped out of the entryway.<p>

Billy glanced at the damage, then at his brother. "Tommy, what did you do?!"

"I took the villain out," Tommy shrugged, looking rather pleased with himself.

"And the doors," Teddy remarked as he came up to them in his green alien form, putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder as he assessed the situation.

"And the doors," Tommy agreed, expression completely nonchalant as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "They were more annoying than the bad guy anyway." He prodded the unconscious villain with a foot, as if to see if the guy would make up. The guy didn't, so Tommy turned to look at his teammates, saying, "Bad dude's out cold. Can we get back to our shopping now?"

And then Clint came tearing out of the store, being chased by the manager who was wielding a jar of mayonnaise and shouting, "Get out of my store you hooligans! I'm going to call the cops on you! Don't you dare show your faces here again!"

"C'mon kids, gotta go!" Clint called as he ran past them.

The three Young Avengers sprinted after him—or at least, Billy and Teddy were sprinting, and Tommy was trying very hard _not _to, but was still ahead of his teammates and quickly overtaking the senior Avenger.

* * *

><p>"What now?" Tommy asked as they piled into the van and Clint stepped on the gas, police sirens approaching in the distance. The speedster was grinning.<p>

"Now," Clint said, glancing back at the twins in the rear-view mirror, "we find another grocery store and get our shopping done, hopefully without any trouble this time around. Think you kids can manage that?"

"I think so," Billy said.

"Hopefully," Teddy added from the front.

Tommy raised his white eyebrows and smirked. "No promises."

After that, they encountered no more problems with the grocery shopping, despite what Tommy had—or rather, hadn't—promised, and managed to buy all the food on the (rather long) list that Clint had acquired from someone—because there was no way that he'd come up with the list himself—and carried all the food out to the van, piling the back completely full of assorted foodstuffs that were considered edible by at least one member of the superhero team.

"Ohhey! Revolvingdoors!" Tommy exclaimed, spotting a building across the street and disappearing.

"Where'd Tommy go?" Teddy asked with a frown, turning around from where he'd just shut the back doors to the van.

"He saw some revolving doors, apparently," Billy said, sighing, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Revolving doors?" Teddy asked, raising a blond eyebrow.

"Yeah," Billy said. "He likes revolving doors. We better go make sure that he doesn't accidentally amputate someone's arm or leg or something."

Clint was just about to swing himself up into the driver's seat when Billy called, "Hey, Hawkguy! We'll be right back—we've got to keep Tommy from accidentally amputating the limbs of any civilians!"

Clint collapsed into the driver's seat and watched them hurry across the street, dodging swerving cars and getting honked at. "Kids these days," he said, shaking his head.

* * *

><p>When Billy and Teddy got to the building, the revolving doors were spinning so fast they were a blur. It was really a surprise that they hadn't, like, broken or something from the speed.<p>

"Tommy!" Billy called in exasperation. "Stop running around in the revolving doors already! You could hurt someone!"

And then suddenly there was an unconscious guy with a black mask pulled over his face being dropped at their feet.

And then another unconscious guy with a black robber mask.

And then yet another unconscious guy with a black robber mask.

And then a fourth unconscious guy with a black robber mask.

"Hey bros!" Tommy said, appearing leaning against the edge of one of the door-panels of the now-still revolving doors, arms crossed over his chest. "So, I went through the revolving doors into the bank, right, because revolving doors are fun, and look what I found!" he gestured at the unconscious robbers. "These idiots were trying to pull a bank robbery! I mean, what the hell, right? This is New York! Who thinks they can get away with a bank robbery in New York?! It's like superhero central! Surely they knew Spiderman or someone would have stopped them."

"Like Speed," Teddy pointed out.

"Wait a moment, I forgot something," Tommy said, widening his eyes and dashing back into the bank, the revolving doors sent whirring at a blurring speed, before the speedster returned hardly a moment later and dropped four empty guns on the ground.

Tommy grinned and brushed off his hands. "Someone inside is calling the cops, I think we can go now. Can we go now? Let's go! And I call shotgun this time!"

Then he was across the street sitting in the shotgun seat of the van and dropping four empty guns onto Clint's lap, saying, "Bank robbery. Duty called. Gotta love New York, right?"

* * *

><p>"Well," Teddy said after they'd arrived back at the Mansion without any further mishaps and were carrying all the bags of food inside to the kitchen, "that could have gone worse."<p>

Billy, who was ahead of him, stopped at the front door of the Mansion, glaring at it. His arms were full of groceries. "Can't open the door," he grumbled.

"I got it!" came Tommy's voice, and then the door was open, and there was a rush of wind past them as Tommy breezed by after returning to the van, grabbing as much grocery bags as he could carry, and running past them into the mansion.

Sighing, Billy stepped forwards into the doorway—

"Boo!" Tommy said, appearing in front of him.

Billy yelped and dropped the groceries, and Tommy quickly grabbed them out of the air, rushing them back to the kitchen and then reappearing, staring at Billy in mock disappointment. "Billy! You're not even going to help carry the groceries in? I know you're not that strong in comparison to me or Teddy or even Clint, but that doesn't mean you can't help a little!"

"Oh my _gods, _Tommy," Billy said, looking up in exasperation.

"And Teddy!" Tommy said, turning to glare at the shapeshifter, "You slacker! You can carry more than that!"

And then Tommy was gone and Teddy's arms were piling with more groceries, and he had no choice but to shapeshift out of his human form and into his Hulkling one in order to carry all the weight and bulk.

"_There _you go!" Tommy said, giving Teddy a push towards the door.

Then the speedster turned back to the van, to find Clint picking up the rest of the bags of groceries. "Wait, I'm carrying those!" Tommy said, zooming over and glaring at the archer.

"No," Clint said, "I can—"

And then Clint suddenly found himself standing in the kitchen, bags of groceries in his arms.

"Hey," Hulkling said, coming into the room carrying a mountain of grocery bags and setting them carefully on the floor.

And then the bags of groceries weren't in Clint's arms, and there were no longer grocery bags on the floor, and everything was put away, a rush of cold air from the refrigerator huffing across his skin.

"Alright!" Tommy said, appearing beside him and clapping his hands together. "Are we done?" He didn't even wait for an answer, continuing, "Yeah, okay, we're done. Anybody have any more bright ideas for how we can kill some time?"

"You make it very hard for any of us to kill time, Tommy," Billy said, rolling his eyes as he leaned against his boyfriend.

"Um," Clint said. "We could go out looking for trouble? Shouldn't be too hard. Trouble's all I ever seem to find. Can't even find my car keys, but I can find trouble."

"Awesome, trouble's more interesting than car keys," Tommy said, shrugging, grinning, disappearing and returning, holding out his hand dangling a pair of keys right in front of Clint's nose, "which are right here, by the way. And you accidentally locked the keys to the van inside the van."

Clint groaned. "Aww, van no."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: According to movers dot com, average two-seater couches weigh 224 pounds.<strong>

**And according to livestrong dot com: "Men between the age 20 and 29 must lift 106 percent of their body weight to be in the 50th percentile, 122 percent for the 70th percentile and 148 percent for the 90th percentile."  
><strong>

**According to the Marvel wiki, Teddy weighs 170 pounds. 148 percent of 170 is 251.6, therefore the average two-seater couch would be within Teddy's range, assuming he's in the 90th percentile - which, I mean, look at him. He definitely could be. Those muscles.**

**(In Hulkling form, Teddy can lift at least 75 tons, but no more than 100 tons.)**

**According to the Marvel wiki, Tommy can lift about 800 pounds with his arms (and he can lift 1 ton with his legs).**

**Which would make a two-seater couch well within his range.**

**However, because doing weight lifting slower is more tiring than doing it fast, and Tommy's a speedster, I figured he'd have a harder time doing something like bench-pressing at a 'normal' speed, which would be way slower to him than anybody else.**

**And the thing with the doors was basically that I get very frustrated with automatic sliding doors - and if _I _get frustrated with them, then Tommy _definitely _does. I also figured that when he's doing things at superhuman speeds, the motion sensors wouldn't be able to detect it. I figured Tommy would like revolving doors, though. As for Billy with the normal door, well, opening doors is always annoying when you've got your arms full. **

**Clint is Clint. And he's sometimes referred to by author Marvel characters as "The Troubled One." Poor Hawkguy. He's not as dumb as he acts, though. But apparently he likes playing stupid because it makes him feel smart, sometimes. **


	91. Punch Me

**AN: Tommy's first sparring session with Steve Rogers.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Punch Me (but isn't that a <strong>**_Cap_****ital offense?)**

"Well, if you're going to be an Avenger, Speed, then you need to train," Captain America had said.

"I know how to fight," Tommy had protested, narrowing his eyes.

Captain America had just raised an eyebrow.

"I know how to street-fight," Tommy had elaborated. "When you grow up looking like this," he'd gestured at the white strands of hair sweeping across his forehead, "you gotta learn how to stand up against all the bullies that are bigger than you and yet still team up against you five-to-one, the cowards."

There'd been a flicker of empathy in Steve's eyes, hardly visible through they eyeholes of his Captain America helmet, before it was gone. Tommy had caught it, though.

"The Avengers go up against seasoned villains and fighters," Captain America had stated, all business. "Street-fighting isn't going to be enough against professional martial artists. I want to show you how to hold your own even against professionals, not just cowardly bullies that rely on brute strength and intimidation. I know you're fast, but I want to teach you finesse."

And how could Tommy argue with that? Actually, it sounded kind of fun.

So they'd headed to the training room for Speed's first ever Avengers sparring session.

Of course, it had sounded like fun up until the point where he realized he actually had to _fight Captain America. _

* * *

><p>"Punch me," Captain America said, gesturing at his face.<p>

Speed looked at him, aghast. "I'm not gonna punch you!" he protested.

"Why not?" Captain America asked. His lips quirked. "You don't think I can take it? Believe me, son, I've taken harder punches than what you can throw at me."

"No," Speed shook his head, "I mean, it seems like punching _Captain America_ should be a capital offense or something, and I've already got enough of a criminal record, thank you very much." He crossed his arms, lips tightening.

"Tommy, you know that all your charges were lifted, right?" Captain America said, somewhat surprised, somewhat concerned.

"Er, no," Tommy said, scanning the Captain's face for any deceit. "I didn't, actually." No deceit to be found. Tommy's expression changed to one of surprise, a little bit of hope sparking in his eyes. "They're really lifted?" he asked tentatively.

"I have a friend who's a lawyer, and he made sure of it," Captain America assured him, smiling slightly.

"Huh," Speed said, blinking behind his orange goggles, too fast to be comprehended. "Well, I'm still not gonna hit you." He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. "I like the idea of being clear of any and all offenses, and I don't want to soil my apparently now-spotless record."

"Well, if you won't hit Captain America," Captain America said, taking off his helmet and dropping it to the ground, "will you hit Steve Rogers?"

"Not as Speed," Speed hazarded, glancing at him, "I'm pretty sure that's not allowed. But Tommy can hit Steve, I guess." He grinned slightly and lifted his orange goggles off his head. "Like a barfight, right?"

"I really hope that you've never been in any barfights, Tommy," Steve said pointedly, eyeing the speedster ins suspicion.

"Me? Barfights?" Tommy asked, widening his eyes, gesturing at himself incredulously. "C'mon, I know I've got white hair, but I'm not _that _old."

Steve laughed, and Tommy grinned hesitantly.

"So, how about we both get a costume change, and then we'll see about that sparring lesson?" Steve offered.

"Yeah, sure," Tommy said, zooming off.

He came back seconds later in civilian exercise clothes (so he was fond of skintight and flexible clothing, sue him—loose clothing was incredibly annoying when running at superspeed, all the air resistance and everything), and waited a few minutes for Steve to return, which he did, wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants.

"Alright, Tommy," Steve grinned, widening his stance, though his body stayed relaxed, "punch me."

Tommy adapted a tense fighting stance, expression still nervous. "You're sure I'm not gonna get in trouble?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Steve's smile was actually incredibly reassuring. "Even if you break my nose, I promise I won't press charges or have you arrested."

"Haha," Tommy snorted. "Fine." He glanced up at the tall blond man who looked like he was in his early to mid thirties, and definitely not at all like he was actually technically over ninety years old. "But, um, you know I'm going to have to pull my punches a bit, right? 'Cuz I seriously doubt even a guy who's as indestuctible as _Captain America _could take a punch at like Mach-10 in the face..."

"I'll pull my punches too," Steve assured him, blue eyes laughing. "This is just a friendly sparring session, and then I'll give you some pointers and show you some professional techniques, but we're not trying to kill or maim each other."

"Oh, okay," Tommy said. "Good. Um. Given my criminal record, I still don't feel comfortable throwing the first punch. Why don't you hit me first?" He offered a boyish grin. "Then I'll feel better 'cuz I can say that this crazy guy attacked me and I was just defending myself."

Steve huffed a laugh. "Have it your way, son," he said, lunging forward to punch the air where Tommy's face had been hardly a fraction of a second earlier.

"Uh, I'm allowed to use my powers, right?" came Tommy's voice from behind him, and Steve whirled around, aiming a kick. "'Cuz you see, I can't turn them _off..." _

"Go ahead Pie—Tommy," Steve quickly corrected, aiming more strikes which the white-haired boy either dodged or blocked. "I could use the challenge. It's been a while since I sparred with a speedster."

"Did you seriously almost call me by my uncle's name?" Tommy scoffed, expression bordering on bored, looking like he was hardly even trying as he avoided Steve's whirling kicks and punches. "Dude, you deserve a punch just for that."

Though to be fair, Steve didn't exactly look like he was trying his hardest either. "Then stop dodging and punch—_hnng!" _

The speedster's blow hit him hard in the chin, the velocity of it knocking him flat to the ground.

"Oh, shit," Tommy said, stopping his movement and hovering over him, biting at his lower lip, "I didn't mean t—"

Steve grabbed his arms and tossed the speedster over his head and across the room as he leapt to his feet, Tommy giving a surprised grunt as his back hit the wall.

"Lesson one," Steve said, "never underestimate your opponent. If you're not a hundred and ten percent sure that he's down for the count, then he's not down."

"Not fair!" Tommy protested, making a show of brushing off his shirt even though there was no dirt on it. "This is my first Avengers sparring session! I don't know what the rules are!"

"You'll figure it out, you're a fast learner." Steve grinned and beckoned with a hand. "Come at me again."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I think Steve probably could block or dodge a lot of Tommy's crude fighting moves at this point, but he wasn't trying his hardest and he wanted to see what Tommy could do, so he let Tommy punch him because he <em>wanted<em> Tommy to punch him. This was a skills-scoping test. Though I figure, even with Tommy's crude fighting technique, just because of his sheer _speed _he could still hold up reasonably well against Captain America, though Steve would definitely win 'cuz he's smarter. **

**But this wasn't really about winning, it was about learning (which includes Steve learning Tommy's strengths and weaknesses), and whenever I've seen Avengers sparring sessions in the comics they're both landing blows against each other - a good fighter is not necessarily one that takes no hits - and throwing each other around the room and stuff. And I'm pretty sure especially the beginning of sparring sessions involve a lot of getting hit by each other before they get a rhythm of blocking and dodging going. Additionally, Steve and Tommy have never sparred with each other before in this piece, so they aren't familiar with each other's fighting techniques, which means additional hits as they figure things out. **

**I'm pretty sure Steve let himself get punched in this, though.**


	92. Vengeance

**Vengeance (the dark side of Magneto's favorite grandson)**

Tommy was great at finding stuff. He was really, really great at finding stuff. In fact, he was so great at finding stuff, that not only could he find the new location of the secret mutant-experimentation facility that had incarcerated him, he could find the secret lair of one 'evil terrorist' Fighter for Mutant Rights called, in awe and fear, by the name _Magneto. _

"Hey Grandpa Mags!" Tommy greeted as he casually leaned against the table his grandfather was leaning over, inside the pretty-damn-awesome hidden metal bunker with a door that looked like part of the surrounding mountain rocks and could only be opened by metal-manipulation powers. But could also be vibrated through if you had superspeed.

Erik Lehnsherr glanced up from the map he'd been scowling at, startled at the presence of his grandson. "Thomas," he said flatly. "I do not appreciate this visit at this time. How did you even find this place?!"

"You look pretty frustrated," Tommy observed as he glanced down at the map, ignoring Erik's question. "Haven't found Juvie then, I take it?" He glanced up at his grandfather, raising a white eyebrow.

Erik glared at him, grinding out, "I need you to leave and not tell anybody this location."

"I want to help you," Tommy said, meeting his gaze squarely, unflinching.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I can help you find Juvie," Tommy said seriously, lifting his chin. "I can help you destroy it—not that you need the help, of course, but I _want _to help you. I just ask one thing."

"Thomas—"

"The doctors are mine," Tommy said, voice low, green eyes flashing with a cold, malevolent glint that had never graced his mother's. "I'm going to kill them for everything that they did to me. And I know that you want to be the one to destroy them, but I need to do this—for closure."

Erik's anger left and he raised a white eyebrow. "That's not exactly Avengers behavior," he remarked.

"I'm not exactly who the Avengers think I am," Tommy retorted. An unkind smirk curled at his lips. "And what the Avengers don't know won't kill them."

Magneto was looking at him with interest. "Does your brother know?"

"_No,"_ Tommy scoffed, huffing a harsh laugh. "I'm not going to tell him, and neither are you." He met his grandfather's eyes resolutely. "He'd just be disappointed in me, and I don't want that. And he'd tell me that vengeance won't actually make me feel better. But I don't want to do this _just_ to get my revenge—I want to save the mutants that are currently being locked up and experimented on there, and I want to make sure that those fucking _sons-of-bitches_ doctors never _ever," _his eyes flashed, "have the chance to do to any other kid what they did to me."

Magneto's lips were curling in a pleased manner. "Your mother and uncle would not approve."

"I don't give a _fuck _about how they'd feel about this," Tommy snapped, straightening, squaring his shoulders, looking up to hold the gaze of the taller figure of Magneto in a way that made it seem like they were staring at each other eye-to-eye. "They're not going to know. This is just going to be between you and me, right Grandad?"

"Are you sure?" Erik said, though he neither looked nor sounded like he doubted what his grandson's answer was going to be.

"Hell _yeah_ I'm sure," Tommy said without hesitation, determined, unwavering. "Dude, I've already killed before, and I've seen lotsa gruesome stuff, this ain't gonna faze me, and it's not like I'm gonna mar my 'pristine' soul or anything," he rolled his eyes, "'cuz it's already fucked." He met Magneto's gaze defiantly, saying, "So are you gonna let me help or do I have to blackmail you into letting me help?"

Magneto looked pleased. "You're even more like me than I'd thought," he said, sounding proud.

"You flatter me," Tommy said with a smirk, before a sharpie appeared between his fingers. "Now give me that U.S. map," he gestured at the paper, and Erik slid it over the table to him, and Tommy grabbed it, eyes scanning the fifty states. "I know where one of the Super-Juvie facilities is," he said, marking a small black X on the map and sliding it back to Magneto. "After the Young Avengers broke me out they moved the location of that facility, but I still found it—I think there might actually be more, but I currently know just the one."  
>"One's enough," Magneto said as he looked at the location, eyes glinting. "They'll have information on the others."<p>

"When do we hit it?" Tommy asked, trying not to sound too eager as he sat lightly on the edge of the table, eyes glancing between the map and his grandfather's face.

"Now," Magneto said, meeting his gaze. He quirked an eyebrow. "Unless you have schedule conflicts?"

"Nope," Tommy said, grinning darkly, hopping off the table and disappearing for a moment, returning clad in a skintight suit that was all black, dark goggles on his head. He nodded at Magneto. "Let's do it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, my Tommy has a dark side. Because I like characters with dark sides. Tommy's one of those characters that you could really write either way, but I'm writing him this way. Bam. <strong>


	93. Dispatch

**AN: ****The Jesteress expressed interest in seeing an additional part to the previous chapter where Tommy and Erik break into Juvie and "smash shit up." So, here you go ;)  
><strong>

**WARNING for violence, blood, and merciless killing. If any of that bothers you, you might want to skip this chapter. We're getting a bit dark here!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Dispatch: <strong>_noun  
><em>1. the sending of someone or something to a destination or for a purpose**  
><strong>_**2. speed in action  
><strong>3. the killing of someone or something_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Dispatch (welcome to the Morally Gray Area, Tommy Lehnsherr)<strong>

Destruction.

Demolition.

Complete and _utter_ desolation.

When Erik and Tommy were done with Juvie, there was _nothing_ left. Nothing. Nothing at all.

The doctors were dead. Juvie was gone. Gone, gone, dead and gone, and Tommy maybe shouldn't have been feeling just as good as he did.

There were streaks of blood drying on his face, streaks of blood that weren't his, and it didn't bother him.

Maybe he should've been feeling worse than he did, but he didn't particularly care about how he probably _should _feel, because the way that he felt was the way that he felt, and because when he sent Magneto a dark grin, Magneto returned it.

It wasn't _happiness, _not really. It wasn't _pleasure. _It was... _grim satisfaction_, maybe.

Tommy knelt down in front of one of the teenage mutants they'd rescued from the place, pulling his goggles from his face and placing them on his head so he could look the girl in the eyes, offer a reassuring smile. He didn't tell her everything was going to be okay now, because that would have been a lie. He didn't know if things were _ever _going to be okay—for her, for him, for the other survivors, for Erik Lensherr. What he did say was: "Don't worry, you'll never be locked up in a hellhole like that _ever_ again. Magneto and I will make sure of it."

The girl looked at him with wide, cat-like eyes that scanned his face, her nose twitching. "And who are _you?" _

He hesitated for a moment, before smirking slightly. "You can call me _Dispatch." _

* * *

><p>Magneto and Dispatch had come tearing into Juvie like fucking <em>forces<em> of fucking _nature. _

Unstoppable. Merciless. The each of them a phenomenon that the humans could not _possibly _hope to control, could not _possibly _hope to defeat or to hold back.

Dispatch sped through the facility, dispatching every doctor and armed guard with extreme prejudice. They died with their atoms destabilized, their necks snapped, their jugulars cut. They died and they died _fast. _Dispatch didn't need to make them suffer, didn't need to exact vengeance by making them feel even an inkling of what he'd felt—no, he just needed them _gone. _Dead, dead and gone. Maybe they deserved to be tortured for what they'd done, but they didn't deserve to _live _long enough for their hearts to beat even one more beat. Not a single one of them could be left alive.

Dispatch dispatched, and Magneto tore the place apart.

Magneto ripped the facility apart by the seams, metal screeching, people screaming, sparks flying from metal scraping metal, the Master of Magnetism hovering overhead, eyes glowing eerie red-scarlet against the night sky, the tang of metal percolating the air, metal swirling, _ripping _apart. The noise was terrible, the sight was terrible, Magneto's rage was _terrifying. _

He clenched a hand, and adamantium crumpled like tinfoil.

He moved his fingers, and mandroids were murdered by their own armor.

He waved a hand, and laboratories were ripped from beneath the ground, flung into outer space, burning and lighting up like meteors.

He was a conductor, and metal was his orchestra.

Magneto destroyed, and Dispatch killed and saved.

The doctors and guards and authorities dealt with, Dispatch ran through the facility that was being torn apart like the felled body of a caribou by the jaws and teeth of a ravenous wolf, liberating young mutants from their cells, picking them up and depositing them outside at a distance where they could watch but remain unharmed, then rushed back into the facility to save more.

Every mutant that was still alive in there, he saved. A couple he had to perform super-fast emergency surgery on before he could move them, but ultimately, if they were still alive then they _stayed_ alive.

If they were already dead, well, then they remained dead. There was nothing he could about that, the dead bodies. He couldn't even bury them.

All he could do was destabilize their atoms and make them combust into nothing,which he was sure they would have preferred to their bodies being left to rot in the ground, anyway. He knew that that's what _he _would have preferred, and it was the best he could do.

He did the best he could by those teenage mutants whose fates he'd shared or could have shared.

He did the best he could. And maybe in some ways the _worst_ that he could.

"Hey, Magneto," he said, zipping back outside and waving impatiently up at the Master of Magnetism hovering above him. "You done having fun yet? The place is clear, and I don't want even the _rubble _of this place to remain."

Magneto lowered, and Dispatch thrust his black-clad arms forward, black-gloved hands vibrating so fast they blurred into invisible smudges against the dark night surrounding them, and then there was a colossal _KA-BOOOOOOOOOOM! _and the smithereens of Juvie were kinetically exploded into absolute _nothingness. _There was just the torn up ground where a multi-level mutant experimentation facility used to be.

Tommy stared at the space for a moment. "You know," he said, "they say revenge doesn't actually make you feel better. And yeah, the _pain _hasn't gone away, but—I feel better."

He glanced over at the mutants that had been saved, the group of them huddling on the ground, comforting each other, or standing and looking up at the night sky as if they'd never seen something so vast and beautiful in their lives.

"I feel good," Tommy admitted. "I feel like we did right.

Magneto came over and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "We _did_ do right," he said with ardent conviction. "We saved members of our mutant brethren and destroyed the humans that would use and abuse us for our gifts."

And when Tommy sent Erik a dark grin, Erik returned it.

"Alright," Tommy said, turning and striding towards the liberated mutant teens who were eyeing the two of them with mixtures of awe, respect, distrust, suspicion, hope. "Let's get our brethren somewhere a helluva lot better than this."

* * *

><p>Some of the mutants had chosen to go back to their homes, but not many of them. A great deal more had ended up going to the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning—the faculty there may not have agreed with Magneto's methods, but they didn't turn away any mutant child in need of help, education, a place where they wouldn't be discriminated against, and a place to maybe even call home.<p>

The Jean Grey School had a weird sort of tacit agreement with Magneto—they would spurn his actions, but they would do nothing to try and impede them.

Tommy—Speed—Dispatch—didn't accompany Magneto there with the mutant teens. He would have been recognized, and he didn't want to risk that.

One of the mutant kids had guessed he was Speed from the Young Avengers, and he'd sent them a wink, pressing a finger to his lips. _"__Our secret," _he'd murmured, knowing all the others had heard, and they'd nodded subtly or smirked in agreement. He didn't even need to explain anything to them—they knew. Maybe they'd heard about him in Juvie, or maybe they could just tell from the way he acted, but they knew. And that was enough, for him and for them.

Back at Magneto's lair, Tommy waited, wondering idly why Erik didn't have a shower there—seemed pretty stupid to have a secret vigilante lair without a shower to wash the blood off, but maybe the guy just washed off in the river outside—and occupying his time by inspecting the maps scattered around, searching every nook and cranny of the place for any secret passageways or cool things like that, and trying to guess the password of Erik's computer.

No luck there, but guessing was kinda fun, up until the point the computer blocked him from even trying. Stupid computers.

Luckily, Magneto was back relatively soon—they key word there being 'relatively.'

Erik found him sitting at the table, playing pointless cat-games of tic-tac-toe with himself on a piece of scratch paper he'd found.

"What are you still doing here, Thomas?" he asked, taking off his helmet and placing it on the table, one hand resting on top of it as he looked at his grandson who was still clad in his black suit, goggles on his head, dark burgundy streaks of dried blood on his face.

"Waiting for you," Tommy answered, grinning at him and leaning back in his chair, kicking his black-shod feet up on the table and putting his hands behind his head. "You know I'm like your sidekick now, right? Partner in Mutant Rights vigilante 'crime' stuff. I'm helping you on all your missions and shit from now on. I _liked _doing what we did today."

"Thomas—" Erik started, but wasn't given the chance to finish.

"Thomas? Who the hell's Thomas?" the white-haired teen in the black suit smirked. "The name's _Dispatch. _And when it comes to the _Proffesor X v. Magneto_ disagreement on human-mutant relationships, I'm on _Magneto's_ side."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, Tommy has a new code name for his vigilante Defender of Mutants siding-and-working-with-Magneto persona. Different name for a different suit and a different role. Because he can't do this kind of thing as the Avenger Speed, now can he? <strong>

**Magneto's inordinately pleased and proud of his speedster grandson. _Finally _a family member that _gets _what he's been saying for years. And who doesn't have the same hope/faith/belief in the goodness of humanity that everyone else does, lol.  
><strong>

**Welcome to the morally gray area, Tommy Lehnsherr. **

* * *

><p><strong>Aside note: With this chapter, <em>Velocity <em>is now officially over 100,000 words long :)  
><strong>


	94. Mama

**AN: Inspired by the song "Mama" by My Chemical Romance. **

**Three completely separate incidents, each with one of Tommy's 'moms' (Mary Shepherd, Rebecca Kaplan, and Wanda Maximoff). **

* * *

><p><span><strong>Mama (we all go to hell)<strong>

**_I._**

In Super-Juvie, your parents weren't allowed to visit you, but once a week they gave you letters from your parents—_if _your parents had sent any—and once a week you could send a letter to your family.

It was all just a sick joke, really. Juvie read all your letters and only patched the letters through if you didn't say anything about what was actually going on, so if you wanted your letter to get through then you had to lie, just say that you were okay, that the programs were helping.

Tommy never got any letters, and he didn't see the point in sending any. The relationship he had with his parents was bad, to say the very least. And he was a juvenile delinquent. He figured that most juvenile delinquents came from bad family situations, so why would any of the other kids stuck in that place want to exchange letters?

But the thing was, Super-Juvie wasn't like a normal juvie, and it wasn't for normal kids. It was for mutants.

And for mutants, you didn't actually have had to have done anything purposefully bad to be sent there. There was a difference between Tommy and a lot of the other kids there, he was starting to realize.

Tommy was most definitely a juvenile delinquent.

A lot of the other kids there weren't. They'd come from reasonably good homes, had a close relationship with at least one family member, hadn't done anything wrong before in their life. But then their mutant powers had emerged and they'd accidentally hurt someone, or accidentally caused a shitload of property damage, or something. It was an accident. They didn't really deserve to be there, not like Tommy did—even if the blowing up of his school had been mostly an accident, he'd still been a bad kid.

Sometimes, on Letter Day, he heard some of the other kids crying in their cells, crying over the words of their family who didn't know shit about what was actually going on.

But one Letter Day Tommy had been feeling especially bitter, hatred and anger and pain coiling so tightly within him he thought he could scream. It was the day after he'd first had to kill to save his own life. So yes, he was feeling bitter.

That day he said he wanted to write a letter, and a posse of armed guards had escorted him out of his cell to the writing room, and had then stood there and kept their tranquilizer guns pointed at him as he wrote, even though he'd been equipped with a power dampener. But they had to watch you when you wrote to make sure you didn't do something stupid like try to kill yourself by driving the pencil through your throat or something.

Tommy glared at each guard in turn, before turning his glare on the pencil and paper in front of him. He didn't touch either object for about a minute, but when he was barked at to get a move on and prodded in the back with the muzzle of a gun, he grit his teeth and grabbed the pencil, staring at the paper with so much hatred he could almost have burned a hole in it.

Then he placed his pencil on the paper and wrote, his handwriting dark with the pressure he was putting on the pencil. Usually he wrote cursive, and an extremely messy, scrawling, fast cursive at that. But this time he made a deliberate effort to print every letter as clearly as possible.

_Mama,  
>We all go to hell. I'm writing this letter, and wishing you well. <em>

_Mama we all go to hell. _

He stared at the short letter for a moment, folded it and stuck it in the envelope, writing down his mother's address on the front.

He gave the letter and the pencil to one of the armored guards, then walked with his shoulders back and chin raised back to his cell.

He sat on the cold metal surface that served as a cot and watched the cell door close and lock, feeling the power dampener more than ever as its energy buzzed through his system, hampering his nerves and muddling his mind.

He wondered idly if they'd actually send the letter. He hadn't said anything about what was going on in the place, after all. His words could easily just be passed off as those of a bitter or depressed teenager. Which was probably a reasonable description of him, all things considered.

They probably wouldn't send the letter, though. Best not to let anything even slightly negative get out.

Still, Tommy couldn't help but wish that they _would _send the letter to his mother. He'd have loved to be a fly on the wall if/when she saw it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>II.<em>**

Tommy started living with the Kaplanses after the whole search for the Scarlet Witch went bad and ended with the deaths of Cassie and Jonas.

Before that, Tommy had just been living at the Young Avengers hideout, but when the team disbanded... well, no more hideout. There wasn't any reason for Kate to keep renting the warehouse, after all.

Tommy didn't have anywhere else to go, and Billy and Teddy—okay, so it was mostly Teddy—convinced him to stay at the Kaplanses' house.

Jeff and Rebecca Kaplan had taken in Teddy when he'd had nowhere to go after his mom had died, after all, and they'd been introduced to Tommy—albeit briefly, because Tommy hadn't stuck around for more than the couple (agonizingly long) minutes it took to be introduced—and had absolutely no qualms about taking in another stray—especially when that stray was Billy's spiritual twin, and boy had _that _been an interesting conversation, explaining to them that their eldest son had a twin from another family who was soul-related rather than blood-related and who actually looked _almost exactly like their son. _That _had_ to have been strange for them.

And yet, they'd taken it all in stride. Their son's magic powers, their son's shapeshifting alien boyfriend, their son's soul twin brother. They'd accepted it _all. _

As far as Tommy was concerned, that kind of accepting reaction simply _was not human. _

"You're both mutants," Tommy told Rebecca and Jeff, green eyes wide in disbelief. "You are both mutants whose superpowers are super-tolerance, and, like, _super-kindness _and _super-empathy. _I'm not living with empaths! I refuse! I flat-out refuse!"

"Honey, we're not mutants," Rebecca said, smiling slightly in amusement that was tinged with a bit of sadness as she looked at him, and—oh, yeah, definitely an empath. "Not all human beings are intolerant xenophobes. I'm a psychologist, though, so it's my job to be empathetic."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't need _therapy," _he spat, snapping slightly.

"I would recommend it, given your past," Rebecca said, her eyes flicking to Billy, who looked down at the floor guiltily when Tommy whipped his head around to glare at him.

"_Traitor," _Tommy hissed.

"But I won't insist that take therapy," Rebecca continued, smiling slightly at him. "We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to, Tommy. We're just offering you a home."

Teddy put a hand on the speedster's shoulder, offering a reassuring smile as well. "At least until you've found an alternative," the alien added. "But you don't really have any other options right now—"

Tommy glared at him and jerked away from his touch.

"—I'm just saying," Teddy said, raising his palms placatingly. "It's not going to kill you to settle down and have a life for a little while."

Tommy scanned all their faces, glaring at all of them, but neither Jeff, Rebecca, nor Teddy flinched away from his gaze. Billy just wouldn't look at him—but then, Billy just wouldn't look at anyone, now. He was still in shock after what had happened, and Tommy was pretty sure that Mrs. Kaplan was going to force Billy to have therapy sessions—which would probably be a good thing for the witch because he seemed in a total funk and like he needed them. Tommy, however, did not need therapy. He was fine. Yeah, Cassie and Jonas died, but everyone died eventually. And Cassie had died a hero, which was a damn good way to go, in Tommy's opinion. Vision was an artificial intelligence, so just as his life had been artificial, so had his death, and Tommy knew there were backups so Jonas wasn't even _truly _dead, he was just gone because they couldn't rebuild him. So, whatever.

Bad stuff happened. You couldn't go back and change it, you could only move forward and get over it.

Tommy was over it.

The rest of the team wasn't, but then, they had been together longer. He was kind of still a new addition, so he probably couldn't be blamed for not being as messed up over the losses. Oh, and he was also the team sociopath. So he really didn't even have to _pretend _to care.

There was no point in dwelling and brooding, Tommy thought rather bitterly as he glared at Billy. If there was a problem and you could fix it, then you fixed it. If you couldn't fix it, well, then there was no point in worrying about it. Maybe it had something to do with Billy's reality-warping powers though, why Billy was so fucked up by what had happened. Because he kind of _did _have the power to change stuff.

Except that Billy had quit. He was a reality-warping witch and he thought he shouldn't use his powers for to help people and be a hero. He thought he shouldn't fight for what Cassie had died for. The stupid fucker.

Teddy's _mom _had been killed, and _he _hadn't fallen into such a state. But Teddy wouldn't stay superheroing if Billy wasn't, so.

Tommy was alone.

But they _were _right about one thing—namely, that he didn't have anywhere to stay now that the Young Avengers were done and their hideout was going to be gone with them.

"Fine," Tommy relented, crossing his arms. "I'll stay. But only 'cuz I need a place to crash. And also, I refuse to share a room with Billy. I'd rather just sleep on the couch."

Rebecca and Jeff beamed at him, and Teddy looked pleased and maybe a little bit relieved.

Billy just looked depressed. Like he always did now. He was still staring at the floor like there was something very sad there, like he was watching puppies die or something.

"Don't worry, there's an extra guest bedroom that you can have," Rebecca told him.

And so that was how Tommy ended up staying with the Kaplanses, and how he got his very own room. Which, if you went in, still seemed like a bland guest bedroom, because he didn't have any possessions to put in it. Rebecca was ridiculously nice enough to go out and buy him new clothes the next day, though.

So, Tommy stayed. He put up with Kaplans family dinners where you had to sit there forever and wait for everyone to finish eating before you could be excused, and Billy's annoying little brothers, and Billy who stayed depressed and just couldn't move on or get over the fact that a couple of his friends had died—dammit, what, was this his first time dealing with death or something?! Why the hell couldn't he get over it?! Tommy couldn't even annoy a response out of him.

And Teddy just kind of doted around Billy, trying to help him in any way he could, but Billy was totally blind to it or something—you'd think he would have _tried _to get better for his boyfriend who was trying so hard, right? You'd _think_ he would notice the pain he was putting his family through.

Geez, and people called _Tommy _unobservant and insensitive. At least he actually _talked _to Teddy and to Billy's mom and dad and Billy's little brothers, which was more then _Billy_ did.

And Billy was going to therapy sessions, but he wasn't getting any better, so that really just confirmed what Tommy had figured about therapy—it was pointless and didn't actually do anything.

Dammit, Billy was depressed, and he was dragging the entire household down with him. It was enough to drive Tommy mad. What the hell did Billy think that life being a superhero was like?! He'd wanted all the glory and excitement but hadn't been ready for the trauma or the consequences. Stupid fucking ignorant idiot.

At least, even if Billy was totally lame and Teddy was completely distracted, the rest of his family was nice enough.

The two younger Kaplan boys were kind of cute—annoying as hell, but endearing in their own way, and Tommy rather enjoyed wrestling with them on the carpet. Sometimes pillows got brought into the tussle. That was fun. They were young and bright-eyed and ignorant about the hardships of life as hell, but at least they were enjoying life, unlike their older brother and their older brother's boyfriend.

Mr. and Mrs. Kaplan were obviously stressed by their son's condition, but they did their best to hold things together. And all things considered, they did a _way _better job than the Shepherds had ever done.

They were nice. In fact, they were _too nice. _

There'd been one time where Tommy had freaked out because Jeff—who was a cardiologist and so had a keen interest in the heart and stuff—had wanted to listen to Tommy's special hummingbird-fast heartbeat and take his blood pressure and ask him questions, but then Rebecca had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the room to have harsh words with him—Tommy stuck around just long enough to catch the words 'mutant experimentation' and 'victim' and 'PTSD' before he'd bolted. (Stupid Billy—or maybe it was Teddy—who'd told Mrs. Kaplan about what vague things about his past that he'd told them. Stupid traitors who couldn't keep a single damn secret.)

He hadn't returned for around twenty-four hours, and when he came back, he found that Rebecca had been worried sick.

'Worried sick.' He'd never known exactly what that phrase really meant up until that point.

Rebecca had been genuinely worried about his wellbeing after he'd disappeared, and that was extremely new to Tommy.

He didn't like it.

But after that, Jeff never asked him anything about his heart or heart rate or blood pressure or whatever ever again, which Tommy was rather grateful for. It had brought back memories of being hooked up to a room full of machines while he was instructed to _"Run, boy. Run as fast as you can and do not stop until we tell you to." _(And there'd been pain incentives and he'd run and he'd run and he'd run and he'd run wondering when they would tell him to stop but they didn'ttheydidn'ttheywouldn'tlethimstop and finally he'd just collapsed from utter exhaustion, beyond spent, and the pain_painPAINsomuchpain_ but he _couldn't get up,_ couldn't move no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't _run any more_...)

There'd been one time that he'd woken up screaming. That had been incredibly embarrassing.

"Tommy!" Rebecca had said, hurrying into his room even as he'd bolted awake, panting. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Several supersped deep breaths, and Tommy had calmed down enough to smirk at her. "Oh, just a nightmare," he'd shrugged, brushing a hand through his hair, recovered enough to lie: "I dreampt that I was stuck in line trying to buy stamps at the post office and the dude in front of me wanted to know every single way he could ship his package to Istanbul. And boy, was that _painful, _I tell you."

Tommy shuddered just at the thought. Yeah, that situation would make him scream. That was probably actually worse that what he'd _actually _dreamed, which had just been repressed memories of Juvie shit. Not that bad, really, except that it was really stupid that he had to remember exactly how much some things had _hurt. _But not that Tommy had to send any letters—and who even _sent _letters nowadays? But if he did, and he needed stamps, and he'd gotten stuck behind a guy like that, he'd probably have just stolen the stamps that he'd needed. After screaming in pain from the agonizing waiting. Waiting. Waiting was awful.

Rebecca didn't look like she believed that that was what his nightmare had been about, but she looked rather thoughtful. "Stuck in line at the bank, huh?" she asked, sitting down on the bed.

Tommy pulled his legs up towards him, away from where she was sitting so that she couldn't touch him, and glared at her.

"You're trying to pull that therapy trick on me," he accused.

"I'm not—" she started.

"You _are," _Tommy insisted, snarling slightly. "I don't want to talk about it. I should have just picked the dude up and dropped him and his stupid package off in Istanbul—only that would have been a waste of my talents. It was a stupid dream. I'm tired and I want to go back to bed."

Rebecca had taken the hint and left, but not before saying, "Well, if you ever want to talk about anything, you can always come to me."

Yeah, because _that _would happen. It was all Tommy could do to keep himself from openly scoffing.

As soon as the door had clicked closed and her footsteps had retreated down the hall, Tommy had sprung out of bed, changed into street clothes and slipped out the window into the night, running off the stress and the memories of pain and the frustration.

After that, Tommy had slept with a scarf tied around his mouth so that he couldn't scream—or if he did, the sound would be muffled—and he just breathed in and out through his nose.

Rebecca had figured out pretty quickly that she wasn't going to get him to talk about anything. But she was always looking at him like she knew something that he didn't and it made her sad, and it really, really got on Tommy's nerves.

Tommy had developed many ways of easing the constant boredom of life. One of those things was reading. He got so bored sometimes that he read whatever was lying around. In the house of a psychologist, there were a lot of psychology books, so Tommy ended up reading some.

And Rebecca had apparently caught site of him reading some at some point, because she started deliberately leaving some lying around.

Like, there was one book strategically left on a shelf too high for the young Kaplan boys to reach but at just the right height for Tommy to find that was about post-traumatic stress disorder, and talked about symptoms like reexperiencing (intrusive reacall, intrusive reexperiencing, sleep disturbance, nightmares, dissociative recall, intense psychological distress (anger, anxiety) when exposed to reminders of the traumatic events), avoidance (avoidance, feelings of detachment or estrangement from others, restricted range of affect (numbing)), and hyperarousal (fight-or-flight response, sleep distrubance, nightmares, irritability, anger (and impulsiveness), aggression, exaggerated startle response; general autonomic hyperexcitability), and okay, yeah, so Tommy may exhibit a few of those symptoms, so what. The book talked about some things like Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing and Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and things about the biochemical changes in the brain and over-reactive adrenaline response and shit like that.

Tommy thought, whatever. Maybe he did have PTSD, but Billy obviously did too, and Billy was worse off than him because Billy was all unresponsive and depressed and had the thousand-yard-stare thing going on. Maybe she should make Billy read the book. Or Teddy. Whatever.

There were also books about a variety of disorders that apparently she'd deemed similar to the behavioral side-effects of having superspeed. Which was stupid. He didn't have a disorder, he had an X-gene, and the world was just _slow_. She was trying to understand but she just _didn't get it. _She never would. Nobody ever would. Snails would _never _get it.

And yet she kept trying. It was infuriating. She was so damn _nice _all the time, and Jeff was, too, but Rebecca especially.

She tried to do things like put a hand on his shoulder, or hug him, or ruffle his hair, and he always dodged out of the way, but she kept trying to _touch _him. Why the hell was she always trying to touch him?!

She was always asking if there was anything he needed, things like that, if there was anything she could do for him, and the answer was always no. No, no, and no. He didn't need anything. He didn't want anything. He was just fine.

It made him queasy, just how much he knew he would be able to get away with, if he wanted to. How easy it would be to _use _her kindness to get whatever the hell he wanted.

So, Rebecca was a problem. Jeff was a bit of a problem, because though he never brought up Tommy's cardiology again, it was impossible not to see how interested and curious he was, and it reminded Tommy of the doctors that had opened him up and...

Yeah. Problems.

And then of course there was Billy and his doting boyfriend, and the fact that Billy remained depressed for _months. MONTHS. _That was easily _years _in Tommy's view.

Tommy was really, really starting to hate his twin brother. _Really _starting to hate him for his inability to move past traumatic events. Geez, he would _never _have survived Tommy's past, Tommy was sure of it. The stupid, privileged, _sheltered_ idiot.

No superheroing. Billy was sitting around, staring out the window and doing nothing. Teddy was doing nothing, waiting around for his boyfriend—for his _world—_to snap out of his funk.

Tommy tried to respect their wishes and not go back into superheroing, but his entire body _itched _for it. For the danger. For the adventure.

He had to stay doing something, so he did whatever odd jobs he could find. He ran around the world, did whatever. Stopped crimes and the occasional villain attack when he came across them.

He tried to stay out of the big stuff, because he knew it would mess Billy up even further, and as much as he was starting to loathe the idiot, he didn't want to hurt him any more than he was already hurting.

But though they weren't being superheroes any more, disasters just kept happening.

"It's an _epidemic," _Tommy said, reading the paper about the so-termed 'Spider-Island' that was Manhattan. "We _have _to get out there."

But they didn't. "Even if we went out there... how do you fight an _epidemic?" _Teddy had pointed out.

Billy had just continued staring out that damned window. Didn't say a word, didn't even seem like he was listening.

"Sentinels..." Tommy said later as he watched the news, his entire body _burning _to get out there and kick some robot ass.

Teddy tried to get Billy to wake up and see that the world still needed them. "Billy... someone's declaring _war _on the X-Men."

And Billy just kept staring out that fucking window with his face blank and sullen and practically _lifeless. _

Dammit, _where the hell _was the enthusiastic superhero who loved helping people that Tommy had started to accept was actually his soul twin?

Rebecca did everything she could for Billy. But apparently it wasn't enough.

And yeah, she hated that he was so depressed and suffering from PTSD and whatever, but she was obviously glad that he wasn't out there risking his life any more, and that at least he was _safe _at home. So really, she supported his retirement from being a superhero.

Tommy was going _insane. _By that time he was literally _absolutely bananas. _

The next big disaster happened, and Tommy wasn't waiting any longer.

He didn't tell Billy, or even Teddy, but he did tell Rebecca.

"I'm going out there," he said, determined, already dressed in his Speed suit, hands on his hips. "I'm going."

Rebecca frowned at him, reaching out to grab his arm. "You could get killed," she said, expression twisting in concern, maybe some fear.

Tommy jerked away before she could touch him. "Yeah, so?" he snapped, glaring through his orange goggles. Damn, it felt so good just to _wear the suit... _

"So you could _die," _she stressed.

Maybe she was worried about what his death would do to Billy, with him already a zombie. Probably thought Billy would just wish himself out of existence from grief or something.

But there was something that she needed to realize, and something that Billy really needed to realize, too.

"Mama," Tommy said to Mrs. Kaplan, shaking his head and smirking, "we're _all_ gonna die."

Tommy had never called Rebecca his mother before, and the shock showed evidently on her face.

There were tears brimming in her eyes.

And then Tommy had left and gone off to be a badass superhero and it was the most _glorious _thing he'd felt in _forever. _Every life that he saved, every scrape and bruise that he got, all the smoke and destruction and gore...

Tommy hadn't felt so alive in a long, long time.

Shortly after that, he left the Kaplans for good. He'd saved enough money to rent an apartment, and he'd found a fairly steady job putting together high-demand digital gadget techno gizmo things, and if he stayed any longer in that depressed house he was going to go completely mad and kill himself, cut his fucking wrists or something—he just _needed to get out of there. _

"Where are you going?" Rebecca asked him as he packed his meager belongings into a single suitcase and carried it down the stairs. "Where are you staying? How are you going to support yourself? Are you going to be okay? Why are you leaving?"

At the door Tommy turned back to her, raising a white eyebrow.

Her eyes were wet.

"Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry," Tommy said, shaking his head, tentatively reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. He said it, because it seemed like the right kind of thing to say, and tears made him uncomfortable, but he didn't actually care if she was sad about this. She could cry her eyes out for all he cared, but he was _leaving. _He should never have stayed so long, he should never have _wasted_ so much _time _here.

"But mama, we're all gonna die," he told her. "And I am not wasting what little time I have to live in this house doing _nothing _while this world needs saving, and there's things to do and places to go. I am _not _going to rot her like Billy's letting himself do," his eyes flashed, "and I'm going to die someday, but I am _not _dying _here _before I've even had a chance to _live." _

Rebecca was definitely crying now, putting her own hand over Tommy's hand on her shoulder, squeezing his fingers slightly.

Tommy had to force himself not to yank his hand away. "This house is a _prison cell," _he said forcefully, teeth gritted.

"I understand that you—" Rebecca started.

Tommy ripped his hand from her grip, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. "If Billy ever stops looking out that fucking window," Tommy said angrily, "and even notices that I'm not here any more, tell him that _we're all going to die _one day. Live isn't worth wasting on being a..." Tommy gestured wordlessly, furiously, _"whatever it is _that Billy is now."

Before Rebecca could even begin to formulate a reply in her mind, the door slammed and Tommy—Speed—was gone.

* * *

><p><strong><em>III.<em>**

"Thomas," Wanda said as she came into the room, voice tense and quivering, eyes wet and furious.

"Wanda," Tommy greeted from where he was lying on the bed on his stomach with a book, not even looking at her. Actually, he'd probably glanced at her too fast for her to register, and then had gone back to flipping the pages of the World War II recount that Steve had given him when he'd been too nosy with his questions.

The Scarlet Witch was trembling with pained fury. "Thomas," she said, tone deathly serious, "I heard that you've been going with Magneto on some of his... _missions." _

She of course meant his brutal destructions of mutant experimentation facilities and assassinations on any human who dared to threaten or harm the mutant race.

"Oh? Wherever did you hear that from?" Tommy asked, tone casual, keeping his gaze on the book propped up on the pillow in front of him, one hand holding the book up while the other turned pages.

"It doesn't matter where I heard it," Wanda snapped. "Is it true?!"

Tommy graced her with a lazy glance. "Why, do you have a problem with it?"

"_Yes!" _Wanda said, hands clenched by her flowing scarlet skirt, eyes blazing and cheeks streaked with tears. "You would help his acts of terrorism?! You would become a terrorist?!"

At this Tommy leapt to his feet and glared at her, book thrown across the room in his rage. "If it means saving other mutants like me, then _yes!" _He was somehow shouting without shouting, his voice staying low, but his anger no less potent for it. "If it means killing the kinds of humans who are doing to other mutants what was done to me in Juvie, then _yes._ I happen to agree with what Magneto's doing." He raised his chin defiantly, green eyes flashing.

Wanda just looked at him, mouth hanging open slightly. "But Thomas," she whispered, voice full of disappointment and horror.

"Mama, we _all_ go to hell," he told her, shaking his head slightly as he held her gaze, lips twitching. "It's really quite pleasant, except for the smell."

She just looked at him and cried, hands flying up to cover the lower half of her face.

"Mama, we all go to hell," he said again, whispering. "But if I can spare others from going through what _I _went through, then any 'stain' on my 'soul' is well worth it. Besides, my soul's technically part of _Mephisto's, _isn't it?"

Wanda was shuddering with sobs now.

So maybe Tommy's words had been cruel. But Wanda was too easy to hurt, and if she was going to scorn him for siding with Magneto's view rather than Professor X's, well, she might as well just hate him all the way.

Still, there was something he needed to know. He needed to know if he was going to need to run.

"Does anybody else know?" he asked, tone cold and efficient.

Wanda shook her head, eyes closed but tears still streaming down her face, hands still covering her mouth and stifling her sobs.

"Are you _going_ to tell anybody? Get me kicked out of the Avengers?"

Wanda stood there trembling for a moment, before shaking her head.

Well. Now what? Wanda wouldn't be able to hold the knowledge in. She'd tell _somebody, _eventually. Somebody would figure out something was wrong.

Tommy approached her as slowly and cautiously as he was able. "Are you going to try and stop me?" he asked, a hint of warning in his tone.

Wanda shook her head again, looking at him through her fingers, green eyes glistening with tears, mascara running black down her cheeks.

Tommy looked her, pushing down the pang in his gut. "This hurts you," he said, hesitating a millisecond before placing a hand on her shoulder, feeling her body quiver with sobs. "Maybe it would be best if you didn't remember any of this?"

Wanda looked at him.

There was a flash of scarlet light, and then Wanda was standing there with a sunny smile on her face as if she'd just been there to check on him, and she was laughing as if he'd just said something cute and funny, not a trace of the grief and pain and horror behind her eyes.

And then she was hugging him, and, forcefully quelling the awful, sick feeling in his chest, he hugged her back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The second section was based on The Jesteress saying she wanted to see some Rebecca Kaplan bonding with Tommy. I think she wanted something fluffy, but that just wasn't going to happen, I'm afraid. But hey, angst is better, right? ;P<strong>

**Ugh though, this all just killed me to write... **


	95. Speedster Bonding

**AN: Time displacement! This chapter takes place almost directly following "Troublesome Grocery Shopping," but I didn't post it there because it wasn't done at that point in time.  
><strong>

**Basically, Pietro and Tommy run around, and Tommy talks. A lot. And is sometimes able to get Pietro to talk.**

**LONGEST CHAPTER EVAAAAHHH.**

**Oh, and as a note, all of the Pietro and Tommy's dialogue in this chapter is spoken at superspeed, but because it sounds normal to them, it's written normally. (And because an entire chapter written without spaces would drive you and me nuts ;P)  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Speedster Bonding (let's run away from the world for a while)<strong>

"Hey Uncle Pete!" Tommy said, breezing into Pietro's room, finding the older speedster leaning over a table, one palm flat against the surface, the other hand tangling his white hair, head bowed.

Probably not the way anybody else ever saw him, looking so distraught.

"Want to run away from this slow shitty world for a bit?" Tommy asked, leaning against the door and smirking, though there was a desperate light in his eyes. "I figure if it's driving me nuts then it's probably driving you nuts and I really want to go jump off the top of Mt. Everest so what do you say? C'mon I'll race you!"

Pietro tilted his head to look at his nephew for a moment before straightening, saying, "As you wish."

"Hell _yeah!" _Tommy grinned, fist-pumping, and Pietro's thin lips quirked upwards.

Tommy was already wearing his Speed suit, and Pietro was already wearing his X-Factor suit, so they took off immediately.

The stress and anxiety bled from their bodies, their faces relaxing into focused tranquility, a little bit of glee lighting up their eyes, hearts beating in time, breathing controlled, their feet hardly touching the ground.

"Aahhh this feels amazing! Man, the world really drives me nuts sometimes, you know? Yeah, you know."

"What got you?"

"A pair of automatic sliding doors."

"That'll do it."

"Hey, you ever parkour?" Tommy asked, as they passed through yet another city, keeping to the streets, weaving around cars because they were less annoying to weave around than people.

"Parkour?" Pietro said.

"Yeah!" Tommy grinned, glancing over at him with a mischievous light in his green eyes. "Follow me and do what I do!"

And then Tommy darted off the street, vaulting fences, leaping up the walls in an narrow alleyway, grabbing the edge of the roof and pulling himself up, running across the rooftops, his uncle right behind him.

"Let's go there!" Tommy said, pointing to the top of the tallest building in the city. "As the crow flies!"

"This is... rather invigorating, actually," Pietro admitted, as he parkoured after his nephew through the city, over fences, across rooftops, leaping between buildings over alleyways.

"I know right!" Tommy exclaimed, doing flips at every opportunity. "And you've seriously never done parkour before?"

"Not by that name, no. But I've done my fair share of acrobatics."

They reached the top of the towering building they'd been aiming for, and Tommy gripped the edge, lifting his legs up over his head and doing a handstand on the edge of the roof, a drop of dozens of stories below him.

"Handstand on top of the city! Woohoo! Man, you're missing out! Parkour is so fun! Wasn't that fun?"

"It was a stimulating experience," Pietro admitted rather grudgingly, watching his nephew spread his legs and then close them again, walking them down as if there was a flight of stairs in the air till they nearly touched the ground, then walking them back up, all the time holding himself up on his hands.

"Awesome! Do a handstand on the edge of the roof with me!"

"No thank you."

"Aww, come on! Fine." Tommy jumped off his hands into the air and landed back on his feet, grabbing his uncle's arm and pulling him to and over the edge of the roof. "Let's run down and parkour our way outta here, then! I've always liked parkour 'cuz it's great for getting away from the cops when I did some petty crime—that was before I got my superspeed and could just straight outrun them—but I also like parkour 'cuz it's moving through cities in an unorthodox manner to kinda match out unorthodox pace, y'know? Makes me feel just that much more like a BAMF."

"A bamf," Pietro stated levelly.

"Like a badass motherfucker, y'know?"

"No."

"Dude you're old. How old _are _you even? I mean obviously you're in fantastic shape and shit but of course the white hair probably makes you look older than you actually are—gotta love that about the white hair, I was being let into bars without my ID getting checked a couple years ago, it's pretty cool. Billy doesn't get let into any bars, I tried to take him once, he had to cast a disguise over himself. Teddy was let in, but I doubt anybody would want to try to kick Ted out even if they suspected he was under twenty-one, 'cuz he just looks kinda intimidating sometimes, all that brawn, y'know? Though the good thing about being wiry is that people tend to underestimate you, which just kinda proves how stupid people are."

"Indeed."

"You are a man of few words, Quicky."

"Don't call me that."  
><em>"Quicky." <em>

"I'm going to get you for that."

"Oh yeah? Then _catch me!" _

"Challenge accepted."

And the race was on.

"Last one to Mt. Everest has to explain to Billy and Wanda that they're totally bummed 'cuz they got beaten by their nephew!"

"You don't have a nephew."

"Well, yeah, 'cuz I was talking about you losing 'cuz you're totally going to lose, there's no way I'm losing, unless I get lost, maybe, I haven't been to Mt. Everest before. I really want to fall through the clouds though, that would be awesome."

"Oh, the jump and the fall are fine. It's the landing that proves a problem."

"Well, you obviously survived, so it can't be _that _much of a problem."

"I hit a plane and was then knocked into the Pacific Ocean. I had to be picked up by a cruise ship."

"Ha! I bet they were confused."

"They presumed I had a shipwreck. Which was not entirely inaccurate, considering that my life had been a shipwreck up to that point."

"Oh, so that was after—yeah, okay. A cruise ship, huh? That's cool. I got nothin' against ships. They're slow, but I got nothin' against them. You can leave whenever you want, not like submarines or anything. Hate submarines, it's like being trapped. Airplanes are alright, I can leave from those anytime I want, too. I don't even have to use a parachute. Did you know Steve doesn't use a parachute? Deadpool doesn't, either, not since he heard that Steve doesn't."

"I hope you have not been keeping company with that insane man."

"What, you mean Deadpool or Steve? Ha, nah, I don't see Deadpool all that much, but I run across him on occasion. I'm always running across people. I ran across the Black Panther the other day. Of course, I _was _passing through Wakanda, but he didn't seem happy to see me. Apparently you need like a passport or special permission or something to enter Wakanda? Geez, I got a better reception from Doom in Latveria. Okay, actually I didn't, Doom threw a bunch of magic at me and blew up his throne, it was very rude, I was just asking him a question. Did you know that all the Avengers assume that talking a lot is a speedster trait? Which it's obviously not, because you hardly talk at all, so I guess it's just a me-trait."

"You _are _rather loquacious."

"And _you _are totally taciturn. I mean, sheesh. How've you been, Uncle Quicky?"

"Fine."

"Liar. You need to have more fun in life. When was the last time you had fun? Beating up annoying bad guys doesn't count."

"I do not have 'fun.'"

"Ermahgerd. You've spent too long being the only speedster alive and the slow world has gotten you down. That's gotta be fixed, dude."

"And how do you propose that be fixed?"

"Well, I'm here! So have fun or I'll punch you."

"You'll punch me."

"Yeah! Unless you have some fun, then I won't punch you. Let's find a city and do some parkour stuff, you looked like you liked that."

"Parkour is fine. But I don't understand what you're trying to do."

"Well, I'm trying to find my way to Mt. Everest, for one thing. I think I'm like way off track. What is this, Great Britain? Yeah, I think so."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, _that. _I'm trying to cheer you up and keep you from brooding. I hold the official position of You're Not Allowed To Be All Brooding And Shit So Get Up And Enjoy Your Fucking Life Already. I have to remind Billy that a lot. I have no idea how he got along without me."

"How _is _your brother?"

"Ugh, he's disgusting. Have you seen him and Teddy sucking face? I mean, it's _gross, _and they're all cutesy-lovey-dovey all the time, it's enough to make a person sick. But at least he's in-love and happy, unlike a lot of people on this armpit of a planet—that's what Noh called it, he was in a bad mood and didn't have his iPod with him, so I had to cheer him up, too—like you. Life is too short for you to waste time being unhappy, dude!"

"Then let's fly. Mt. Everest is this way."

"I hope you know that just because I'm letting you lead doesn't mean that you're faster than me!"

"Your comment has been noted and disregarded as a pretense."

"Ermahgerd, it has a sense of humor!"

"What is with this 'ermahgerd'?"

"It's like 'oh my god,' except not. 'Cuz I'm not gonna say 'oh my God,' 'cuz I'm not religious and there is no God. Billy says 'oh my gods,' because even though his family is Jewish Billy's a crazy fanboy and an Norse nerd. Teddy says 'oh my God,' 'cuz he went to an episcopal school or something whatever that is I dunno. I say 'ermahgerd' now 'cuz I'm not religious but there's not really a better alternative phrase."

"There _is_ a God."

"No there isn't."

"There is."

"_Not." _

"God took mercy on me. He gave me back my powers and gave me a second chance when I was undeserving of it. He gave me hope and showed me that I am loved."

"There is no God. And Billy, damn the idiot, is the one who shows me that I'm loved. And I give myself fucking hope. I find the idea that you have no hope in anything in this world and have to find your hope in something that doesn't exist as rather sad. And if you try to convince me that there is a God then I will punch you. And you'd think that if there was _actually _a God, then the world wouldn't so damn fucked up, and I wouldn't have gotten vivisected and shit. Did you know that your brain doesn't have any nerves and you can't feel anything when they dig around up there?"

"I did not know that."

"Yeah, well. Did you know that the Kree have a mathematical formula that disproves the existence of any deities? Noh-Varr told me. They learn it around the same age that they learn not to soil themselves, apparently."

"And you believe this Noh-Varr?"

"Yeah, he showed me the formula. Took me like an entire fucking _hour_, but I finally figured it out, and it's totally true. Also, Noh is from a more advanced dimension than this. And his taste of music isn't _entirely _awful. I'm betting your music taste sucks though."

"His name is No?"

"No, his name is Noh. I asked him if it ever got annoying people getting his name all mixed up like that, and he just said there were far more frustrating things about the human race than the fact that they never get his name right. I asked America if people's reaction to her name ever got annoying—because with the patriotic clothes she wears and all that and just _America _as a name, you totally think she just made it up—but she just cracked her knuckles and threatened to punch me, so I'm guessing that nobody who ever made fun of her name is still alive.

"Oh, and I ran across Loki the other day, he was trying to convince a bunch of fangirls that he wasn't actually Harry Styles. But then I told them that he actually _was_ Harry Styles and that I was Niall Horan but we were there incognito and they weren't allowed to tell anybody, and Loki and I signed autographs for them. Loki wasn't happy with me, I don't know why, but he said something about having to move his apartment or something, which I don't get why that would be a problem because I change apartments all the time. Best to not stay in one place too long, y'know?"

"I'm not sure I approve of the company you're keeping."

"Yeah? Well, tough shit, 'cuz I don't give a fuck whether you approve of _anything_ about my life. Oh, and I don't approve of _your _life, so, y'know."

"Mm. Fair enough."

"Dude, is that Mt. Everest?!"

"It is."

"_Awesomeness! _Race you to the top, old man!"

"Watch your footing."

"I _always_ watch my—dude, there's a dead frozen guy! And oh look, there's another one!"

"Not everyone is blessed with enhanced speed, strength, flexibility, agility, versatility, and the ability to survive on less oxygen without any impediments."

"The poor suckers. Ha! I see the top! You wanna hold hands?"

"What?"

"Well, I don't hold hands for comfort, but I will for practical reasons, so that we don't, like, get separated in the fall or whatev—_jump! _Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fuck dude this is so fucking awesome fucking _shit _this is awesome! All the clouds below us! Aaaaaahhhhhh dude we're totally flying right now! Falling into clouds! Fuck it's all white and I can't see anything! _Don't let go of my hand!" _

Pietro couldn't help his grin. "I won't."

* * *

><p><em><strong>SPLASH! <strong>_

"Shit the ocean is _wet!" _

"I wonder why."

"You're funny. Last one to swim to shore is a loser!"

* * *

><p>"You had fun, admit it! Admit it! Admiiiiiit iiiiiiiit! C'mon!"<p>

"I'd rather not."

"You'd rather not admit it?"

"Indeed."

"_Ha! _You had _fun!" _

"I'd prefer if you didn't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Yeah, a reptuation as a lame-o jerkity-jerk of an asshat that is totally unlikeable, except by his crazy and unstable sister, a nephew that thinks he's great only because he was on the second line-up of the original Avengers along with Cap and Hawkass, and another nephew who's faster and sexier than him and not quite as much of a jerkity asshole and more likable and is actually a real person rather than an unfeeling weapon who hates the world and is hated by the world and is just basically a total loser and—"

"I think you've made your point."

"—who is a total lame-ass coward who's too afraid to even throw an insult at his faster and hotter nephew 'cause he knew that said nephew will verbally beat him into the figurative dirt—"

"No, I just consider your puerile attempts at pugnacious manipulation to be unworthy of retaliation."

"Dude. You're harder to piss off than would be expected given your reputation."

"When it comes to infuriating me you are at a considerable disadvantage. The fact that you move, think, and speak at my speed makes even your most unpleasant words more tolerable than even the sweetest praises of most others."

"Really? 'Cuz I would've figured that I'd have an advantage at pissing you off 'cuz I'm like a younger you so that looking at me would be like looking at yourself and you would see why nobody can stand you. Like, what a pathetic person I am would remind you of what a pathetic person you are."

"On the contrary. Seeing you gives me hope. You are so far superior to all the other humans, mutants, and aliens on this planet."  
>"Heh. Except for Wanda and Billy, right?"<p>

"That is indubitable. They are too good for this world."

"Yeah really. So far too-good that the world's either gonna break them, or they're gonna break the world and then reshape it in their own image. Billy's actually supposed to do that, did you know? He's like a fucking singularity multidimensional magician messiah or something and he's gonna change the world."

"Good. I can't wait."

"Ha! Waiting. Hate waiting. All life _is _is waiting. Everybody's waiting for something. So I guess by the transitive property I hate life. But I love living. Life sucks, but I love being alive. Y'know what I mean, Uncle Pete?"

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Then you're not sure that you _don't." _

"I have not given it much thought."

"You know the funny thing about being trapped in a cell and strapped down on a table waiting while they get ready to tear you apart? You've got lots of time to think about shit. You know what my greatest regret was gonna be if I died in that hellhole?"

"I do not."

"The fact that I didn't even _have _a bucket list. That I'd never taken death seriously enough to think about what I wouldn't be able to live with myself with—or die with myself with, I guess—if I died without have done it. I have a bucket list now, though. I just mentally crossed off 'jumping off the top of Mt. Everest and flailing through the clouds and landing in the water and not dying.' You know what else is on my bucket list? I just added it right the past millisecond."

"I do not."

"I want to eat a gallon of ice cream—preferably something with peanut butter and chocolate and marshmallow—with a fork—not a spoon—straight out of the tub while riding on the back of a dinosaur—preferably a T-Rex. What say you we go get some ice cream and some forks and then head to the Savage Land?"

"I think that that is a very strange desire."

"Hey, you only live once, man. Unless you get brought back to life, which tends to happen in our line of work, but then you're not really living twice so much as having your once extended, right? And you gotta live your fucking life like you fucking mean it, else you're just a fucking waste of space. What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? I bet it's pistachio. You seem like a pistachio guy."

"I prefer coconut ice cream, actually."

"To match your hair, I get it. White's your color."

"I hardly think that color has anything to do with a favorite _flavor." _

"Maybe not. Oh! I changed my mind, I don't want to eat ice cream with a fork, I want to eat ice cream with a spatula. You're going for a spoon, really? How boring."

"Maybe I just don't relish the idea of getting ice cream all over my face."

"Hey, it's not like the dinosaurs are gonna judge you!"

"You are a strange child."

"First of all, I am _not _a child. And second of all—I call dibs on that dinosaur that's eating that other dinosaur! Oh wait, no I don't, I don't really want dinosaur blood in my ice cream."

"Are all teenagers as morbid as you are, or is it just a personal affliction?"

"I dunno, I don't really talk with many teenagers, aside from Billy and Teddy and, uh, maybe David and America? I dunno how old they are, actually, but Noh and Kate are already twenty-one, and Loki is like a million and seven or something like that even if he looks like a teen. So I really wouldn't know. Loki and Noh are pretty damn morbid too, though. We should form a club. Loki can eat magpies, Noh can squash people with colanders, and I can either destabilize people's atoms are talk at them till their brains start leaking out of their ears.

"Mind-readers hate me, I make them dizzy. Actually, Emma Frost tried to read my mind once, and then she staggered and threw up from motion-sickness. At least she seemed to recover after that though—I gave Charles Xavier a migraine that he reportedly had for days. The X-Men were mad at me. Whatever. Hey, so when do I get to meet your X-Factor team? I want to pickpocket the King of the Thieves Guild and talk to my aunt with the awesome hair."

"I hereby forbid you from visiting X-Factor."

"Aww, how come? Afraid they'll hate me as much as they hate you? Whatever I guess. Aww, ice cream no! I blame Clint. The whole shopping thing was his fault, too, he could have taken us to a grocery store _without _automatic sliding doors, but no, and now I have to run around with you because the stupid slow world was really getting me down. _Whatever_, the dinosaurs can have the rest of my ice cream, are you finished yet?"

"What kind of speedster would I be if I wasn't?"

"Fair enough. Let's get out of here! These dinosaurs are starting to get on my nerves. Hey, so when do I get to meet your daughter? I really want to meet my cousin! Does she like ice cream? Can I take her out to ice cream or something? Molly told me that I'm actually pretty cool for 'stupid teenager,' so I bet your daughter would like me. I bet I'd like your daughter! She sounds cool. She's an empath right?"

"She is."

"So can I meet her? I promise I'll be nice!"

"Whether you meet her or not is up to her, not up to me."

"Well, tell her I said 'Hi awesome cousin!', huh? Molly told me I should always compliment girls and be nice, 'cuz if I wasn't nice then I'd get punched. She's great, Molly is. She doesn't put up with emotional shit either. And her punches actually hurt—the most painful punch I ever got was from Molly, and she was hardly trying. I'm pretty sure she could beat up the Hulk. She's like my little sister, practically. She's great. Her friends don't really approve of me though, and Chase especially is totally protective of her, and I can't blame him, even if Molly is more capable of protecting him than he's capable of protecting her. I babysat her on Valentine's Day when her friends were all out on dates. She gave me a hat that had pointy ears on it. She's like the only one who doesn't mind and actually _likes _it when I blow things up. I bet your daughter is really great."

"She is."

"I'd like to meet your estranged wife at some point too. She's gotta be a cool person to have ever put up with you. Dude, I cannot believe that you're not getting pissed off at me yet. I mean, yeah, you're tense and you look like you want to tell me to shut up, but you don't look like you want to punch me or strangle me. Is it really just that nice to hear someone talk at a comfortable speed that you don't have to strain to understand? Yeah, okay, it probably is. That's why I like talking to you. You talk fast and you don't get sentimental about things, and I can just talk about whatever and you don't really care. Sometimes it's just so frustrating how much Wanda and Billy _care. _They care too much. It makes it really hard to talk to them a lot of the time, 'cuz you're afraid of accidentally saying something that they'll put undue emphasis on and then never let you alone about it. And I hate those pitying looks they give, y'know? You never look at me with pity and I like that. I appreciate the way you don't care about stuff. That sounds weird."

"No, I get what you mean."

"Cool. Y'know, I really just wanna run. I just wanna run and run and run. Nobody gets that."

"I do."

"Yeah, I know. I don't know what I'm running for, though, or where I'm running to, or really even _why _I'm running. But I just wanna run and never stop, maybe not even when I get to wherever it is that I'm running to, maybe I'll just keep running past that. Where are you running to, Uncle Pete?"

"Away."

"Ha! Good one. Well, I suppose running 'away' is better than running to 'nowhere,' huh? Is 'away' a destination? Hey, do you ever get those nightmares where your legs are broken and you can't run?"

"I get dreams where I'm shot in the knees and I couldn't dodge."

"Man, if whatever happened to Xavier that paralyzed his the lower half of his body happened to me, I would probably kill myself. Life without running is not a life worth living. It's interesting what people live for. Noh lives for music, like he'd hurt himself just to hear something. Kate lives for being a superhero and doing the right thing, and maybe lately also for keeping Clint from utterly destroying his life. Billy and Teddy live for each other.

"Dude—those dolphins! So cool the way they leap out of the water like that.

"Anyways, Billy and Teddy are total saps who live to make each other happy, and America lives for being badass I guess, and David is like the smartest guy alive and probably lives for making everybody else around him feel really stupid. What do you live for, Uncle Pete? And no spilling secrets or stuff that I've told you! What is said between speedsters stays between speedsters, or bad things will happen. So, what do you say?"

"I got that."

"Good. Now, what do you say about life, the universe, and everything?"

"It's slow. All of it's slow."

"Well duh. 42, by the way. Because I did read that book, which you obviously haven't, which is surprising 'cuz it's like a classic or something everybody gets the reference. But what do you live for, Quicky?"

"Family."

"Dude. Maybe you're a better person than me after all. Man, this sun and rain is totall rainbow weather. There's the rainbow! It would be pretty cool to run on a rainbow, I need to ask Loki if I can borrow his special shoes sometimes, I bet a rainbow would be a real smooth run, like a really nicely paved airway except longer and softer, more like a dirt trail through the woods in that sense. I bet a rainbow would feel like mud between your toes. What do you think? Notice that I'm actually trying to get you into the conversation here rather than completely dominate it. See! I can be considerate! Kinda."

"Since we're talking hypothetical situations, I think it would be more invigorating to run over the surface of the sun. Much more wild."

"Yeah, assuming that you wouldn't get burned up or choke to death on space, running on the surface of the sun and over moving plasma _would _be pretty cool. Though even if you _did _burn up, it would be a pretty damn awesome way to go. Now if you could just save someone while running on the surface of the sun, _that _would be ideal. Die a hero and in a literal blaze of glory. 'Cuz y'know I wanna die just as fast and recklessly as I've lived."

"I'd like to live to meet my grandchildren."

"Ermahgerd, you're actually a sap underneath all that cynicism and bitterness and brooding bad-boy shit. I refuse to be like you!"

"I would never put it upon you to be. I'm leading the parkour jaunt for this city."  
>"Go ahead, knock yourself out. Except, you know, not literally, because I am <em>not <em>going to carry you and I'll just leave you where you fall. Even if you do a Clint and land in a dumpster."

"Clint isn't as insufferable as he used to be."

"Oh, right, you and Wanda joined the Avengers at like the same time as him, right? Billy gave me like a day-long lecture about like the entire Avengers history once, the only thing that kept me from going insane was a ping-pong table."

"I prefer a game of pool."

"Huh. I find it annoying how long people take to take their pool shots, but I bet their expressions are great when you totally humiliate them. Cheers for the laws of physics and stuff! So, where'd you learn all the mathematical angle stuff?"

"Captain America, actually."

"Figures. He does fighting lessons with me and Billy sometimes. He's good—I mean, he's _Captain America, _he's like the best—but he's still pretty damn slow. A mile in just over a minute, compared to my mile in under a second. Still, he's faster than most, when I want company I jog with him sometimes. Noh's even faster though, he can run like 210 miles per hour, which definitely beats Steve's 60 miles per hour. Noh's a pretty fun running partner, and he's great at parkour, I've actually learned several tricks from him. You're a fast learner, you've pretty much got the hang of this parkour thing."

"Thank you."

"But I wouldn't expect anything less from my speedy uncle that everyone always likes to compare me to. Do you ever feel like if you don't move fast enough the world will eat you?"

"Not exactly."

"What makes you happy?"

"What?"

"Do you have anything that makes you _happy? _Something you can always turn to when you feel like shit?"  
>"I run."<p>

"No duh. But do you have anything _else?" _

"I don't need anything else."

"Dude, everybody needs to find something. Sometimes I find running lends itself too much to thinking, so when I don't want to think about stuff anymore I hit a club, the louder the music and the larger the crowd and the rowdier the people the better, and then I just dance and let the loud music chase all the thoughts away and leave me with nothing but focusing on dancing as wildly as I can at an almost-normal speed—you know the good thing about hanging out in a dim club with a lot of intoxicated people is that they don't notice if you move a little faster than should be possible—while not accidentally hitting anybody hard enough to like give them a black eye or a broken nose or something. Oh wait, you read books, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Books are great boredom relievers. I've read a lot of different stuff 'cuz I get really bored and I just read whatever's lying around, whether that's Billy's comics or Mrs. Kaplan's psychology books or Tony's physics books. You know, I actually suspect that Mrs. Kaplan left certain books lying around 'cuz she knew I'd read them. Like seriously, there was one about post-traumatic stress disorder, and it looked pretty damn new, I'm pretty sure she bought it after I moved in. I was living with the Kaplans for a while but they drove me nuts—they were just _so _caring and understanding and trying to make whatever they could easier for me but I don't _want _things to be easy, and just _ugh, _the way they look at me sometimes makes me shudder, like they're imagining what a different boy I'd be if I grew up alongside Billy with them instead of with the Shepherds, y'know?

"You ever get people looking at you like you're a product of your dark past and like they could go back and change everything that happened to you and make you a better person?"

"Sometimes."

"Most of the time even the people who like me I feel like they look at me like I'm cool _despite _my sucky past, but sometimes I wish someone would look at me like I'm cool _because _of my awful past, y'know? I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but I don't need people to see _inside _of me, I just want them to see _all _of me that I show, without putting on blinders when they see something they don't like. And Wanda, I mean, she's great but she just feels _guilty _all the time—every time she _looks _at me, even when it's with stupid motherly pride or whatever, I can _still _tell that she's really guilty underneath it all, like she blames herself for everything that happened to me—which, okay, is fair, because essentially she's actually the one who _created _me and Billy, right? And yeah, it's obvious she loves me and she's proud, but sometimes I feel like she looks at me so sadly because she regrets that she created this fucked-up kid with 99 problems and then some and like I'm just gonna be her biggest regret that she couldn't make me _better_.

"She and Billy get along really well though, she can look at him without feeling totally awful and she isn't always reminded of all the mistakes she's made when she hangs out with him, 'cuz he's sweet and great and he's happy and he's got a loving boyfriend and you know that as long as he's got Teddy he's gonna be okay, really. And Wanda and Billy really get along. She's like a dream come true for him—did you know that the Scarlet Witch has always been Billy's favorite Avenger? And he looks up to all the Avengers like fucking idols, so finding out that he was the spiritual son of his favorite Avenger was _literally_ a dream come true for him—but he's a reality warper, so you know, he should get used to having his dreams turn into reality, I don't get why he has to act so damn surprised and excited all the time like a damn puppy dog. And Teddy's a shapeshifter, so they've really got the capacity to live whatever life they want to.

"They could be anything, and they choose to be superheroes that put their lives on the line all the time. Pretty stupid, huh? I mean, I'm a superhero and you know I love it, but I really don't have anything _else_. And I don't want to have anything else because this is enough for me, I'm just sayin' that Billy and Teddy have a whole different kind of dedication to being superheroes. 'Cuz I love the fighting, but Billy hates violence, and Teddy's actually a total pacifist. Pretty crazy, huh? And yet I actually can't imagine any of us doing anything else. What did you want to grow up to be when you were a kid?"

"When I was younger, I wanted to be an acrobat."

"Really? Well, that explains why you enjoy parkouring so much. Did you know that when I was a kid I wanted to be a gymnast? I wanted to go to the Olympics. Even when I became the track star of New Jersey and people were telling me I should try for the Olympics for running, I'd still have rather gone for gymnastics. I took gymnastic classes when I was younger, but then my parents stopped paying for them, so I earned my own money to pay for parkour classes, because the parkour classes were just drop-in and happened twice a week, and were like twenty dollars, so it was mostly affordable for a kid earning his own money and it was fun. So like, my life actually didn't totally suck, even if my household was bad and the school system was pretty bad and the justice system is fucked up.

"How did you get your powers?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean did you get the superspeed all at once or in pieces? Was there an event that triggered it or did it just happen?"

"I... I got my powers on the same day that Wanda did. She had accidentally caught fire to a barn, and so I... I ran to get to her. I didn't even realize I was running at superspeed until the villagers started calling me a demon. They called Wanda a witch and were going to kill us, when Magneto showed up and saved us. None of us knew that he was our father at the time, and we wouldn't find out for many more years, not until a while after we'd left the Brotherhood of Mutants and joined the Avengers."

"So all at once, then. Huh. I got my powers in pieces—I'd always had what everybody assumed was ADHD and ODD though I was never officially diagnosed, though they did try giving me some medicine and it didn't do anything, so I had some trouble in school and with friendship stuff and whatever. And then it turned out that I was like a superstar runner, and I could beat everybody at both cross-country and at sprinting and hurdles and all that, which was unusual because people generally are better long-distance runners or better sprinters, not both, 'cuz of like ratio of fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscles or whatever. So at that point people were already calling me a freak, and the white hair didn't help—did you always have white hair?"

"Yes. The Roma—the culture Wanda and I grew up in, with our father Django—thought I was a monster. I got into the habit of hiding my hair beneath a hat after Wanda and I ran away..."

"Yeah, I always had white hair too, from what I remember anyway—there's the thing with the whole House of M and then the soul transfer of Billy and me's souls, but it really confuses me. So yeah, the white hair was weird—because it's not even like white-blond, it's just bright _white. _You know, like how our eyebrows are still easily visible on our face because they're not colorless, it's like we actually have white pigment or something."

"You were telling me how you got your powers."

"Yeah, I was. Anyways, so funnily enough my superspeed actually came slowly—it started happening over the course of a week, about. At first it was just my mind, and I would freak out 'cuz the world would slow down around me, and my body wouldn't be responding right, like those dreams you get where you're trying to run but your body will only move in slow-motion while whatever's chasing you just keeps rushing closer. Anyways, so the world would slow down, and then it would snap back to being fast or 'normal' speed, and I thought I was going insane or something. And then my body started doing weird things, and it was like my mind and body were developing superspeed separately because sometimes I would start running somewhere, and then suddenly I'd just _be there _and I'd have no idea how it happened, and I'd glance at my watch and see that it was only like a minute later, even though where I was was like five miles away from where I'd been. I was getting really stressed out, weird things were happening and my parents really just pretended I didn't even exist most of the time.

"I was an accident—they were both young, and they never really wanted me, I just got in the way. They both worked full time and were basically always gone and after the divorce I basically had both their houses to myself whenever I was at either place. But anyways so like all that week I was freaking out, and some bullies tried to take advantage of that and stuff but I could still hold my own so that was okay, but then I was sitting down in English test and we were writing a timed essay and I was just staring at the page and my mind was racing but I couldn't make sense of it and I felt like I couldn't breathe and I just wanted _out _and I asked to go to the bathroom I think but my teacher said no and I was shaking I guess but I didn't even notice, and then it was just like there was _thing _blossoming inside of me, and I thought I was going to explode, but then just—_boom. _The school was gone, and there were classes full of kids at their desks out in the open air completely bewildered, but I'd blown up my desk and chair too and was curled on the ground still shaking so they knew it was me.

"And then the police came, and I'd already given myself a pretty good criminal record and gotten locked up in a regular juvie a few times, so it wasn't hard to get me locked up in the super-juvie, I guess. Nobody doubted I was a bad kid. I'd always been trouble. The only person who really liked me at that point was my track coach, and that was only 'cuz of all the medals I won our school. But you know what the interesting thing is?"

"No."

"When Billy and I compared when and where we got our powers, it turns out that I blew up my school at exactly the same day and time that Billy's powers lashed out at his bully and almost killed the dude. So we got our powers at exactly the same moment, in completely different states. And talking to Billy, it turns out that he'd been feeling weird that entire week too, like there was electricity crawling under his skin, and he'd also had the feeling of something building up inside him before his powers went wild. Weird, huh?"

"It doesn't seem weird to me. I've lived my entire life with a twin, I know the closeness of such a connection."

"And you and Wanda aren't even _identical _twins. Billy and I are _identical, _except for the hair and the eyes. Which doesn't really make sense. Usually when twins are identical they look _identical-_identical_, _right? But we have different hair, different eyes, different powers, though when people don't know us or that they're twins they _still _get confused. Even Captain America thought I was Billy! Wolverine says we smell different though—that we smell similar, but also different, so apparently we smell like twins I guess whatever. Probably helps that I run around the world and get a bunch of different scents on me, and Billy sleeps with an alien. It would suck if Billy and I were _completely_ identical in appearance. I don't want to be confused with that sap."

"You have my hair, but you have Wanda's eyes."

"So I've been told. And I'm the perfect little devil to be related to you two crazy terrorists. It's much harder to imagine Billy being related to you and Wanda and Magneto, isn't it?"

"William is very much like Wanda."

"Except, like, more stable. I think we all have Teddy to thank for that. 'The power of love' and all that. A nice, stable relationship for the crazy reality-warping witch. You know, even with the thing with Kate and Noh, and David and Teddy, the crazy romantic tensions in my team are basically nonexistant compared to what the Runaways have going down. Their romantic problems are _bananas, _I can't stand hanging out with them, except for Molly. She's the only Runaway with her head on straight. Hey, where are we going?"

"Away."

"Ha! I like that. Kinda wish we could _stay _away, too. But then, I suppose if we never came back then we could never go. Just makes everything all the worse I guess. Or all the better. I dunno. I don't wanna go home. I don't know if I even _have _a home. Hey, Pea-ey-tro? Where's 'home'? What does 'home' even _mean?" _

"Where one lives permanently, I believe."

"Oh. Well I'm always moving around but I'm always on Earth. So I guess the entire Earth is my home I suppose? I dunno. I asked Billy, and he told me that home was where the heart is or something, in which case I told him that I'm always home, because my heart is always in my chest. He said that that wasn't what he meant, and I told him that if he meant feelings I still insist I don't have any. But seriously, who lives _anywhere _permanently? Unless you're sentenced to a lifetime in jail. But settling _anywhere _permanently seems like locking yourself in a cell. So then 'home' is a prison. And I don't want to be in prison again, so I don't want a home. I'm guessing you've never been comfortable settling down, have you?"

"Not really."

"Well, it's nice to not be alone in that. I mean, you get me, it's nice to not be the only speedster on this armpit of a planet—I really need to make Noh take me to other planets so he can verify that claim—and to have someone I can talk to at a comfortable speed. It's kinda cool to think that we're basically speaking our own language right now that nobody else could even begin to decipher. Aren't you glad I exist, Uncle Pete?"

"I am."

"You know, you're the only person I can actually believe when you say yes to that question. I know that everybody else could get along just fine without me, but I'm not so sure about you. I'm pretty sure that you need me to keep you from getting so frustrated with the stupid slow world that you turn into a villain again."

"No comment."  
>"Ha! You're alright, Pietro. Anybody ever tell you that?"<p>

"Not really."

"Stupid slow snails in this stupid armpit of a world. They don't get it—they'll _never _get it."  
>"You're all right too, Tommy."<p>

"And I actually believe that you mean that, and not in a totally sappy way. Hey, you know, I'm honestly surprised you didn't kill yourself when you lost your superspeed after Wanda's 'no mutants' mishap. I think _I _would kill myself if I lost my powers."

"Oh, I tried. But Crystal saved me. And then I betrayed her and her family in order to try and get my powers back."

"Oh. Well, by superhero morals I'm obliged to tell you that that was a very dick move, but as a fellow speedster I can tell you that I get it, and I probably would have done the same thing. Whenever I was kept in my cell and they suppressed my powers... worst. Thing._ Ever._ I think if I ever completely lost my superspeed I'd kill to get it back. Doesn't change that it was bad thing to do, but well, you know, I get it, and I'd do the same thing, so I really can't blame you. Ha! Your face is hilarious."

"That is not something I ever expected to hear. From anyone."

"That's because everyone else are snails. Snails don't get it. Snails _never _get it."

"And I have a favorite nephew."

"Ha! And you're my favorite uncle. No competition."

"You don't have any other uncles."  
>"My point."<p>

"Touché."

"Oh, actually, I _kind of_ do have another uncle. Billy made me help him with a family tree diagram, and on our 'kind of' other side of the family Vision is kind of our father, and Vision's kind of father is Ultron, and Ultron has another kind of robot son called Victor, who's on the Runaways team, and he's actually like my age, so thinking of him as kind of my uncle is really weird. But anyways, you're still _way _more awesome than he is. Although he's actually one of the more tolerable Runaways, his robot brain makes him slightly less emotional and slightly less annoying. And he's got a weird taste in music."

"Is that how you define people? By their taste in music?"

"Well, I've got to define them by _something, _and it's hard when they're all snails, and it's just about equally frustrating talking to everybody, and it's a way of defining people that my team actually _gets _rather than something like 'the way they talk makes it really hard to understand what they're saying' or whatever, and Noh is an alien and doesn't relate to normal human stuff anyway necessarily, and Loki is actually also an alien, and so is America, and I mean Teddy is too but he's not _really_ an alien 'cuz he grew up here and he understands humans more than _I _do, but music is universal—_multiversal_, actually.

"But actually, Victor knows Spanish, so sometimes I talk to him in Spanish and it's kinda fun, Spanish is kinda a faster language than English, it's more clipped with less drawled-out sounds. Sometimes I get so bored I learn other languages, and then I go to other countries and practice. It's pretty fun. Also it annoys the other Runaways 'cuz they don't know Spanish, and I like annoying people. A really good way to annoy Victor is to throw magnets at him. He has metal powers and is like a little Magneto—sometimes they call him Magni_ñ_o, as like a nickname.

"They call Molly Bruiser, but she likes Princess Powerful better. She's really not as childish as she acts, she's actually super smart, way smarter than anybody gives her credit for. Nico though, she's like a gothic chick and she's a witch, though actually not as awesome of a witch as Billy, but she's pretty hot, though she's also like super involved in her team's romantic drama, though possibly Chase is worse. Molly keeps inviting me over but the romantic tension just kills me! I try to get rid of it by flirting with everyone, 'cuz then they just get mad at me, and I prefer anger, but they don't like me around even if Molly does—ugh, I know I keep talking about them and it's probably annoying, but I like just visited the other day so they're on my mind. Heh, you should've seen Victor's face when I explained the uncle thing to him—though actually probably the rest of the team's faces were funnier, they looked totally shocked or disgusted, Victor just looked a little confused and awkward.

"But seriously, how's your team getting along?"

"Fine."

"Aww, c'mon, dude. Really? Gimme more. Or I will follow you there and see for myself."

"Wanda put you up to this didn't she?"

"Nope."

"She did."

"Okay fine, she did. So are you going to tell me or do I haftafollow you?"

"None of us really get along, but there hasn't been too much inter-team fighting. Gambit has cats."

"Cats. Right. At least they're better than dogs. Kate has a dog, which is actually kind of also Clint's dog, but it's also Kate's dog. That's it for Young Avenger team pets, though. Unless you count Billy's annoying little brothers. Oh hey a freeway! Let's run on the freeway!"

"Why?"

"Because then we can jump car hurdles!"

"Car hurdles?"

"Yeah, jumping over cars. Like this! Woohoo! Jump! Jump! Jump a little higher!"

"I don't really see the point."

"'Cuz it's fun, you fucking killjoy. Oy a truck! Watch this! Haha, running on the top of a semi!"

"And what was that?"

"Me showing off my gymnastic skills. And then Speed jumped clear over a car, and—oh no, he overshot! Good thing he can movehis arms and legs fast enough to keep him in the air and not land on this top of this other car! Aaaand he's back on the road and flipping off the driver that doesn't even see him!"

"Why in God's name are you talking like that?"

"You mean the self-narration? Because Deadpool does it sometimes, and it always annoys the hell out of people, so then I tried it and discovered that I could annoy people that way too, so basically I was trying to annoy you. Did it work?"

"A little."

"Ha! Dude, would you just jump over a car already instead of weaving around them? You're so boring. Although, if this is a way to beat you... hurdle race!"

"Oh for God's sake."

"You and your god can eat my fucking dust, sucker!"

"You are an insolent little twerp."

"Ah, finally! The insults! You've finally sunken down to my level! Jump! Jump! Jump a little higher and sink a little lower! That guy who's driving is texting on his cellphone! He thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

"Is this really what you do for fun? Jump over cars on the highway?"

"Sometimes. Speed limit 65 miles per hour? This Speed has no fucking speed limit!"

"Your company is starting to wear on me."

"Well, that took a while, all things considering! Seriously though, you're just unused to having an actual conversation with someone."

"A conversation. Is that what this is? It seemed to be that you were just rambling on while I provided a listening ear."

"Ermahgerd! It snarks! It's aliiiiiiiiive! Dude, you're totally smiling right now."

"You're going to hit a car if you keep running backwards like that."

"Woops! Double backflip to avoid collision! Am I awesome or am I awesome."

"You are exasperating."

"I! Am! Alive and amp-li-fied! Dude, we're going this way! Mountains and mountain lakes. I want to jump in a lake right now. Get the stupid ocean salt off my skin. Or, like, run out into the middle of the lake and then stand there till time catches up to me and the water pulls me in. No diving into water at speeds greater than the speed of sound allowed!"

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes! I want to go swimming in a mountain lake. So I'm going swimming. In a mountain lake. Dude this water is fucking cold!"

"It is snowing, you know."

"True. Okay getting out of the freezing water now! to run to the tropics after this. But first I need to get a couple snowballs, and then we're going to swing by New York to drop them down the backs of Teddy and Billy's shirts. Then we'll go to the tropics where it's warm and sunny so I can dry off. C'mon, help me gather snowballs! We can stuff them down all the Avengers' shirts!"

"I don't want any part in such a juvenile prank."

"Aww come on, Uncle Pete! When was the last time you pranked someone for fun?"

"I cannot recall if I ever have."

"See?! Don't worry, you'll just be helping me out, it was my idea, and I'll just say it was all just me anyways and leave you out of it, nobody will ever know. Here, hold these snowballs while I go get some more for myself!"

"I'm going to regret this."

"You won't, I promise! It'll be fun! I'll set up my video camera to tape their reactions while we run away to a nice tropical beach and grab some piña coladas or something! Have you ever had a piña colada? I've never had a piña colada. Although, dude, this snow is cold, and I'm pretty sure piña coladas are cold too. Maybe we should stop and get coffee instead. C'mon, we've got our snowballs, let's go! Gonna be hard to do parkour with an armful of snowballs though, we might have to stick to the streets this time. Hey, after we drop snowballs down the Avengers' shirts, lets run through the tropics so I can dry off, and then we can head to Canada—there's this fantastic coffee shop up there that's got the best mochas and scones you've ever tasted in your life. What do you say? If you don't like the caffeinerush you can always get decaf."

"Is this how you spend every day?"

"Not _every_ day. For the record running around doing random shit is actually way more fun with company than doing it alone, though. What's the fun of eating a gallon of ice cream while sitting on the back of a dinosaur if there's no-one there to laugh at you? Don't you dare drop any of those snowballs! I'm watching you!"

"Hard to watch me when you insist on running ahead of me, isn't it?"

"I—fucking shit that's cold fuck I hate you! Dude, I'm your ally! Sticking snow in my suit is not cool! And you made me drop my snowballs! At least they're just hovering there 'cuz gravity is a fucking snail so I still have snowballs to get you back with!"

"You'll have to catch me first."

"You fucker! Take that!"

_"Nnnngg!"_

"Snowball in the face! I told you I'm faster than you!"

"I... am going to get you for that."

_"__Uh oh... __run! Run, Tommy, ruuuuuuuun!" _

* * *

><p>"Dude, we wasted all our snowballs on each other. Didn't even save one for Billy! Imagine if we'd caught them kissing. It would have been the perfect cockblock. You're ruining my plans, man!"<p>

"I have no plans to ruin your coffee shop plan."

"Ooh, subtle. Soooo, you like coffee? Or do you just wanna see my favorite coffee shop where I hang out when people are driving me nuts? Although I've actually ran into Logan there a couple times... he drinks his coffee pitch black, it's disgusting. And whenever you sneak sugar into his coffee he can always smell it. It's no fair. We had an argument about which kind of scone was the best. He thinks the ginger-orange scones are the best, but I like the lemon poppyseed scones best."

"Are you just going to talk about food or are you going to lead the way?"

"Alright! I'm leading! Geez, somebody's hungry. Actually, now that you mention it, I'm starving too. Running around really works up the appetite! Shit, I actually feel like I could eat a moose. Mooses!"

"Mooses?"

"The incorrect plural of 'moose.' Along with moosi and meese. All incorrect, according to David. Apparently the plural of moose is 'moose', and the plural of ninja is 'ninja' not 'ninjas,' and the plural of sheep is 'sheep' not 'sheeps,' and the plural of fish is 'fish' not 'fishes,' and apparently 'octopuses' and 'ocotopi' are both correct plurals of octopus. Talk about a guy with a head full of random knowledge! Oh fuck I'm hungry, my stomach is trying to eat me from the inside out. Let's stop in New York for pizza first. New York has the best pizza."

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable with spending any significant amount of time in New York."

"Dude, relax! Nobody will know we're there. And if they find you, you can just run, I guess, if you want to. Or you could like stick around and stand up for yourself and not be a coward and run all the time. Or at least, that's what Logan told me, so I've been trying it."

"And how's that been working out for you?"

"Uhhh... wellll... ugh, honestly, it's been really difficult. I still run away a lot. Why do you think I've been running around with you for the past indeterminable amount of time? Wow, I love the ocean at night when the moon's out, I like to chase the moon's reflection, and the water's so dark it's like running on the night sky. Hey, have you ever closed your eyes while running across an expanse of ocean? Do it with me! It's fun!"

"I doubt that."

"Seriously! Do it! Look it's cool, see? Aaaaahhhhhhhh! Shit I seriously feel like I'm fucking flying!"

"You're insane."

"That's what Billy tells me! Well, if you and Billy think I'm crazy, then I must be, right? Shiiiiiiiiiit I love this! You'll tell me if I'm going to run into a breaching whale or a cruise ship or a volcanic island or something, right?"

"No promises."

"You suck. Dude, close your eyes, it's great!"

"No."

"Fine."

Tommy jumped onto Pietro's back, clutching his uncle's waist with his knees and putting his hands over the older speedster's eyes.

"What are you doing? Get off!"

"Nope! If you're not going to close your eyes, then I'm just gonna cover them for you! Don't worry though, I'll keep my eyes open and make sure you don't run into anything!"

"How reassuring."

"Well, I am a reformed juvenile delinquent turned superhero. But you're a reformed terrorist turned superhero turned villain turned superhero again. And I'm your nephew! Trust me!"

"Trust you."

"Sigh, nobody believes it when Loki says it, I can hardly think anyone will trust me when I say it. Just keep running, Uncle Pete! Don't slow down! I don't particularly want to fall into the ocean and get wet again."

"As you wish."

"Turn forty-five degrees north-west! We're New York pizza bound! Do you trust me?"

"I at least trust you to see fast enough to prevent me from running into any objects unless you really want me to."

"Well, that's a start! And if I direct you all the way to New York City without crashing you into anything?"

"Oh no. As soon as my feet hit dry land, you're getting off."

"If I direct you to the edge of the land of New York state without crashing you into anything."

"We'll see. Do you hate me?"

"Only as much as I hate myself."

"That's fair."

"Do you hate me?"

"Considering the fact that you've been trying to piss me off this entire time..."

"Yes?"

"And it hasn't worked yet..."

"Ninety degrees to your right!"

"No, I don't hate you."

"Aww. Not even a littlebit? Thirty degrees to your left, by the way."

"If I hated you, do you think I'd let you ride on my back and cover my eyes with your hands?"

Tommy laughed. "Fair point. Tell you what, you can wrap a blindfold around my eyes and direct me next time we go ocean-surface-running. But you're not getting a ride on my back."

Pietro laughed softly.

"Fifty degrees to your right."

"Wait." Pietro's eyebrows drew together beneath Tommy's hands. "Haven't we passed New York?"

"Yup. I changed my mind, I don't want pizza. I want scones and coffee. So now I'm directing you to the edge of the land of the country Canada, so we can go to that place I was telling you about."

"Seems it's not just your superspeed that makes you such a changeable individual."

"Nope, it's my personality, too! I can be stubborn when I want to, though."

"I believe it."

"I know ya do. Ya know what I also know? This is good for us. We should do this more often."

"You riding on my back and covering my eyes so I can't see anything?"

"No, you comedian. This hanging-out thing. Running around the world doing random shit and talking about whatever. So, what do you say? You want to do this again sometime?"

"We'll see."

"Score!"

"That was not a 'yes.'"

"Yusss, it was."

Pietro snorted softly. It wasn't muchof a laugh, but at least it was laugh, kind of. "Very well. I would like to do this again."

_"Boo-ya!"_

"Maybe without the dinosaurs, though."

Tommy laughed, exuberantly and fully, and Pietro smiled slightly at the sound.

"Running around the world doing random shit, but no riding dinosaurs," Tommy grinned. "Got it. Sounds like a date."

"Though when you put it like that..."

"Shuddup and run, Quicky."

"Your wish is my command."

"Really?"

Pietro's lips twitched upwards. "No. Tell me. Are we close to shore?"

"Yeah, pretty close. Why?"

Pietro didn't answer, just dumped Tommy off his back.

"Dude, not cool!" Tommy yelped, managing to grab one of Pietro's arms and keep hold, dragging his uncle down into the ocean water with him, the both of them hitting the surface hard, the tension at first like rock and their bodies jerked at the impact, before their speed was slowed enough that the ocean welcomed them in with open arms.

Their heads breached the surface and they glared at each other for a moment, treading water.

"I told you I didn't want to get wet again," Tommy said petulantly.

A glare. "I didn't especially want to get soaked in the ocean again, either. I was going to just leave you and wait on the shore."

"Well, I guess we're even then, huh?"

"So it seems."

"Last one to shore is paying for coffee and scones!"

* * *

><p>"So. What does a tie mean? We pay for our own drinks and pastries?"<p>

"Hell no! It means that I pay for yours, and you pay for mine."

"That seems pointless."

"No, it's not. Because if we're not paying for our own food and drink, then we won't be stingy with eating and drinking, see?"

"No."

"C'mon, coffee place is this way. I think I want one of every single pastry, plus like two large mochas."

"Oh. And I'm not going to be able to let you drain my pocket money without doing the same to you."

"Exactly."

"That's devious."

"Is it? Whatever. I'll race you there."

"That is unfair, considering that I do not know where 'there' is."

"Then stay with me and put on a burst of speed once the place is in sight, idiot."

"I am many things, Tommy, but an idiot is not one of them."

"Ermahgerd. Have you ever heard of affectionate insults?"

"Affectionate insults."

"Yeah. When you insult someone but you're, like, teasing, and you don't mean the insult seriously or literally or whatever."

"I thought you were just trying to be annoying."

"That too. But sometimes when I use insults I—dude, you are _not _making me explain this. You are _not _going to get me to sound sappy or emotional. _I don't do emotions or sappiness_, asshole."

"Oh. I see."

"Aaand _there's the coffee shop!"_

They both put on a final burst of speed, tried to shove each other out of the way and ended up tumbling to the asphalt of the street, rolling easily out of the way of the crawling cars.

Pietro glared at the younger boy, and Tommy laughed. "That's call that another tie, huh?"

* * *

><p>Sitting at a table in the small, cozy, busy but not too crowded coffee shop with their baked goods, waiting for their caffeinated drinks, Tommy looked at Pietro and tilted his head.<p>

"You know what your problem is, Uncle Pete?"

"Do enlighten me."

"You try too hard to be perfect."

A snort.

"No, I'm serious! If you're constantly trying to be perfect then you're going to constantly fail, and you're never going to be happy."

"You can't tell me that you don't hold yourself to impossibly high standards."

"Yeah, but I'm _me _and I _know _that I'm me and that I'm not perfect, and that I can only do the best I can but that's enough—thanks to Clint for that wisdom, actually, he's not a bad guy. But the thing with _you, _Pietro, is that just being better than everyone else isn't enough for you. You want to be _perfect, _and you're constantly failing at it because it's _impossible." _

"And you know this because?"

"Because the _world _is imperfect, Pete-o. It's impossible to be perfect in an imperfect world."

Pietro just stared at him with a cool blue gaze.

Luckily he was saved from having to answer by the barista calling, "Tttttttooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Ppppppehhhhhhhhhhhh-tttttrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooo!"

"Pea-_ey-_tro," Pietro ground out under his breath as he got up and stalked over to the counter to grab his drink. "People _never _get it right and it _still _irks me." He glanced at the side of the cup and the incorrect spelling there. "And they can never spell it right."

"Should've had a boring name like 'Thomas,'" Tommy shrugged, grabbing his own drink, the two of them striding back to their table and assorted baked goods crowding the surface that had been quickly disappearing. "Y'know, I was talking to Loki the other day, and he said that baristas could never spell his name right. You'd think that L-O-K-I would be easy to spell, right? But apparently he's had people spell it L-O-K-Y, L-O-C-K-Y, L-O-C-I, L-O-K-E-E, L-O-C-E-E—"

"I get the point."

"I'm just sayin', it's not just you. Apparently Loki's tried a bunch of fake names, but it was really hard to find a name that everybody would spell the same. He said he got inspiration from my boring name and now just tells baristas that his name is 'Tom,' because that's impossible to spell wrong, while even simple names like 'John' can be spell J-O-H-N or J-O-N or J-H-O-N, or—"

"I get it."

"So? What's my problem, then?"

"Your problem?"

"Yeah. I told you what your problem was, about the unhealthy obsession with being perfect, so now you tell me what my problem is."

"I hardly know you."

"You know me better than anybody else on this armpit of a planet—thank you for that phrase, Noh, saying it is like therapeutic, seriously, you should try it, Uncle Pete—just by being a speedster, and I think I just told you more about myself in that past," he glanced at his watch-less wrist, "indeterminable period of time than I've told anyone, like, ever, in my entire life. So if anyone can tell me what my problem or secrete weakness is or whatever, it's you."

Pietro tilted his head, considering Tommy for a moment. "I think your problem is that you apparently trust me with more of yourself than you trust even your teammates and twin brother."

"Yeah, but you _understand. _Billy and the rest of the Young Avengers—_they just don't understand. _Though Noh-Varr seems to understand more than the rest do, at least... he's also a total outsider and he's been incarcerated and he his entire life is just a huge problem. And you know what, Uncle Pete? You're not a bad guy. You've done bad things, but you're not _bad." _

"I'm a bad person to care about. I'm a bad person to be cared for by. I—"

"If you're about to say that you 'destroy everything you touch,' I'm going to have to beg to differ here, because blowing up everything is _my _thing. I'm the one who blew shit up rather than just ran when my powers emerged, remember?"

"That's not—"

"You know what we should do, Uncle Pete? We should throw a Pity Party. A huge Pity Party with loud music and the strongest alcoholic drinks we can find, for just the two of us. And then we can both complain about how much our lives suck and what awful people we are and how we're never going to be able to run away from our pasts, and then we can try to get drunk enough to throw up and just dance for an entire night, and then be hungover for all of a minute before going about our lives with a bit less weight on our minds. But until that Pity Party, we're not gonna be self-pitying, okay? Right now, we're just going to enjoy ourselves. Isn't that mocha amazing?"

"It's surprisingly good, actually."

"Ha! I told you so. So, be a tiebreaker between me and Wolverine. Which scone is the best? Lemon-poppyseed or ginger-orange?"

"Actually, I'm partial to the blueberry, myself."

"Aaahhh! Traitor!"

"Is that another one of your affectionate insults?"

"Dude, you sound like a robot, sometimes, y'know that?"

"I do not sound like a robot. There are two robots on my team, I know what robots sound like."

"See, that's what I mean?! Robot. Why don't you _live _a little?"

"I think we've been over this already."

"Not enough, apparently."

"Why do you even care?"

"'Cuz I look at you, and I see what I could turn into one day, and I don't want to become that—"

"Thanks."

"—and I don't want you to _stay _that. Purely selfish reasons, I assure you."

"I'm assured."

"So. Let's set a date for that Pity Party, huh?"

"Ah, no."

"Ah, yes."

"Most definitely not."

"Most definitely _yes." _

"No."

"_Yusssss." _

"You are insufferable."

"I know."

"The answer is no. That's final."

"Fuck you. _Oh hey caffeine rush! I think I need to go run this off!" _

"You do that."

"You're coming with me!" Tommy grabbed his uncle's arm.

"Not _again." _

But Pietro was already being yanked out the door.

"Let's go to Madagascar! I want to run up one of those baobab trees!"

"This is ridiculous. _You _are ridiculous."

"_Sorry! I can't hear you over my awesome running!" _

* * *

><p>Pietro and Tommy were sitting in the branches of a huge baobab tree, looking out over the island.<p>

_Ping! _went something in Pietro's pocket, and the older speedster took out his Servile Industries pager, checking the message.

"I need to go," he said.

Before Tommy could answer, his phone made a noise, and he checked it to see a text message from Noh-Varr that read: 'get yo ass over here theres a fight u dont want 2 miss it' along with a selfie that that the alien had taken of himself with his kicking-ass face on and a bunch of bots in the background, with America visible punching one in the metal face.

"I guess I've got to go too," Tommy said, texting back, 'b thr n a cple scs strt cnting.' "Our teams totally planned that or something." He grinned at Pietro. "Race you back to the U.S. of A!"

Pietro smirked slightly. "You know I won't turn a race down."

And then they were both running again. Running like they were born for it, running like they were designed for it, running like they lived for it, running like it was all they were.

Like they were made only for running, like they weren't made for anything else.

Just running.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: These two both have major problems. Pietro actually has more problems than Tommy does. Like, way more problems. In comparison, Tommy's problems aren't that bad, all things considered. Pietro's entire life is a huge goddam problem. He and Noh-Varr should form a club or something for People Who Practically Everybody In The Universe Hates and Whose Entire Lives Have Been Huge Goddam Problems.<br>**

**On another note, I love Tommy and Pietro interacting. I really feel like Pietro is the only person who Tommy can _really _talk to - partly because of reasons Tommy stated in the chapter, and also because some of those darker things that Tommy admitted? He could only have admitted at superspeed, speaking normally for him. Things are harder to admit slowly, so I think Tommy would have an especially hard time admitting things at a 'normal' speed. And superspeed is such an alienating superpower, I really feel like Tommy and Pietro are the only ones who understand each other in regards to certain things. **

**And poor Pietro, living most of his life being the only speedster. I really feel like hanging out with Tommy would be amazing for him, and he wouldn't be able to help but enjoy it. **

**Man, though, this chapter did _not_ want to _end. _I kept trying to wrap it to a close 'cuz it was getting long, but it wasn't working, and it just kept getting longer. These two would. Not. _Stop. _They just kept running around and Tommy just kept talking, and the chapter just kept going and going. Which I suppose is actually pretty fitting, considering that these two _never stop _and just continue running. **

**I just love these two. I have a thing for speedsters. **

**Oh, and in case it's impossible to tell, Tommy's text to Noh translates to: _Be there in a couple secs, start counting._**

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, and I know that at some point I wrote something where, when Pietro and Tommy were running faster than the speed of sound, everything was silent because I assumed that if they were running faster than sound then they couldn't hear anything. <strong>

**Turns out that's not the case (I talked to my science teacher again, he's very helpful). So in this chapter I contradicted what I'd previously written.  
><strong>

**Because apparently what happens when you go really fast is that you get this wall of air compressed in front of you, and when you break the sound barrier, you're breaking through that wall of air. So right before you break the speed of sound there's probably a bubble of silence since all the sound waves are being diverted around you due to the wall of air compressed in front of you, but once you break through that wall of air, there's nothing to obstruct sound waves from reaching your ears, so you can hear sounds coming at you. **

**So Tommy and Pietro could actually have conversations while running faster than the speed of sound. **


	96. F a s t e r

**AN: This piece is timeless.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em><span><strong> Faster (and faster and fasterandfaster)<strong>_

Speed ran.

Speed ran faster.

Speed ran faster and faster and faster and faster and faster and faster and _faster _and_fasterfasterfasterFASTER._

Faster till his feet were almost never touching the ground.

Faster till every breath was a chemical burn in his lungs, sharp and deep, piercing, till he could practically feel the oxygen pulsing in his blood with every beat of his racer's heart.

Faster till he got the world that was so stubbornly hard and cutting and stark and defined and crystalline to smear, to blur, to change from harsh reality into a pleasant dream.

So fast that even _he _felt bombarded by all the sights and smells and sounds that were _everywhere_, the air that slid over his skin, behind him, everything about him left behind him with the sound of his footsteps and the splashing of waves and the stirring of leaves and the whipping of hair and scattered papers and broken umbrellas and lost hats and broken branches and torn-up earth and burning melting rubber and put-out fires and shattered windows and stop signs that were accidentally knocked over when he reached out a finger to touch them as he _sped_ past faster than _anything _faster than—

Faster than _fast. _

_So fast_ he was no doubt running at some ridiculous Mach number that was higher than Clint Barton could count.

And still Speed ran _faster. _

There was no need to do so—Tommy was not running away from anything. He was not running towards anything. He was not running for any reason except for _running _and for _speed. _

_Speed._

He just kept pushing his body, kept pumping his arms, pounding his legs, steps quicker, strides longer, stay off the ground stay stay off the fucking _ground DON'T TOUCH THE GROUND DON'T TOUCH IT. _

The ground was lava, it burned him, tried to swallow him, pull him under, devour him, and _he did not want to touch the ground. _

_He did not want to fly. _

No, this was better than flying. This was—

_Speed faster faster racing race race faster speed pure SPEED purefasterfasterfasterNOTHINGbut. _

The world was so still. So still.

Frozen still.

Frozen solid.

Frozen dead; comatose.

But Speed was not solid, he was—_ALIVE—_he was smoother than liquid mercury more intangible than nitrogen gas more empty than the vacuum of space he was—maybe if he just ran _faster _he could become nothing but pure _light. _

299,782,458 miles per second. That was his goal. He would settle for no less. He would—

_Speed. _

That was what he was, he was nothing but, he was, he _was he WAS HE WAS—_

_FASTER! _

Was all that he could think. _FASTER! _

There was a something pulsing within him, coursing through his veins, his body, his heart, his mind, something _burning _beneath his skin, radiating in every single iota of his being.

Joy. Delight. Triumph. Rapture. Glee. Jubilation. Exhilaration. Exultation. Elation. Exuberance. Effervescence. Ecstasy. Bliss. Felicity. Jouissance. Joie de vivre.

Everything except happiness.

Happiness was too gentle a word for this intense _feeling _searing through him, so ardent, so lurid, that he felt like it could burn him alive.

Not burn him dead. Burn him _ALIVE. _

_ALIVE._

A-fucking-_live. _

All he knew was _FAST _and _SPEED _and _FASTER _and _HARDER BETTER FASTER STRONGER. _

_STRONGER—_

_FASTER—_

_BETTER—_

_HARDER—_

_SODAMNFUCKINGFASTTHEWORLDWOULDJUST—_

Crack.

Crack like glass, this sheen of film before his eyes like he had cataracts, show him life just that much _HARDER _than the already diamond-cut view he had now.

Because no matter how fast he ran, no matter how much _faster _he went, he still felt like he was stuck in the back seat.

But he wanted to be the _driver. _

He wanted to drive so fast so that when he finally hit the break, he would go flying through the windshield of the world, the glass _cracking _and _shattering _around him, thousands of little cutting pieces littering the ground that he _could not touch, _the red pooling there, scarlet, sanguine, the green edges of the clear glass when you looked at the transparency at an angle, sideways, edgewise, downward, skyward, try hard, live hard, die hard, fight hard.

He ran faster and faster and _faster and fasterandfasterandFASTERAND FASTER. _

_FASTERANDFASTERANDFASTER._

_ Fasterand fasterand fasterandfaster andfasterandfasterfasterfaster. _

And the faster he went, the more he saw and hear and felt and knew—

The more he knew, the more he felt like he didn't really know anything, that he didn't know and he didn't care because it didn't _matter. _

All that mattered was the gold and sanguine sunset reflected on the depthless blue-black ocean beneath his feet, the way the clouds looked like he could reach up and brush his fingers through them, trace them into whipped cream swirls.

All that mattered was the pastel color and the silken softness of the plum petals he caught in the air, the way they hovered there, the way he filled his hands with them and breathed in the delicate scent, the way he let them go and they stayed there.

All that mattered was the way the moon sky here was blue and the sky here was cerulean and the sky here was azure and the sky here was sapphire and the sky here was cobalt and the sky here was indigo and the sky here was aquamarine and they sky here was ultramarine and the sky here was green and the sky here was sick and the sky here was bruised and the sky here was blushing and the sky was bloody and the sky here was burnt orange and the sky here was coward-yellow and the sky here was crying silver and the sky here was crying white and the sky here was crying little beads like glass.

The only thing that mattered was the way this place smelled dry, the way that place smelled like wet pavement, the way this place smelled like plant growth, the way that place smelled like car fumes that way this place smelled like smoke the way that place smelled like baked goods and the way this place smelled like skunk and the way that place smelled like cigarettes.

All that mattered was the texture of the cement, the bricks, the feel of the leaves, the spray of the water on his skin, the heat from the flames that he did not feel.

All that mattered was the white noise created by the sounds of the world drowned out by the beating of his heartbeat and the breathing of his breaths and the whirling thoughts he covered in sensory information till he sensed them only like shadows behind a curtain.

All that mattered was _SPEED _and the fact that he was the only one alive.

AliVe.

_AliVe_ with a capital V for Velocity and Vitality and Vigor and Verve and Vim.

And he was a Superhero with a capital S for _Speed. _

And there was laughter lingering in the back of his throat, right at a gag spot, every time he passed a stop sign, a yield sign, and speed limit sign.

He could smell the roses better moving than he could smell them standing still, and the petals were so delicate beneath his fingers, and the white roses matched his hair while their green and thorny stems and green and jagged leaves matched the color and the tone of his eyes sometimes when he didn't smile.

If he slowed down to waste his time, then it had to be worth his while. It had to be something quite extraordinary to warrant his undivided attention for more than seconds, but there _were _some things, some people, and he was always moving except when he was too comfortable to move.

_FASTER! _his body screamed, his mind screamed, his very _being_, and there were no arms that could hold him.

There were no arms that could hold him there, but when he collapsed into his twin's arms, a few pounds lighter of body mass and a few tons lighter of anxiety and inhibitions and a few pounds leaden from exhaustion, the other half of his soul did a pretty damn good job of holding him up.

"_Faster,"_ Speed whispered, and his twin said, "Slow."

When his twin said, "Yes," Speed whispered,_ "No." _

"Chillax, Tommy," his twin said.

And Tommy whispered, _"Don'tgo." _

And his twin said, "You know that I won't. No matter how fast you go. But Tommy? Promise me you'll always return home."

"_And where's home?" _he asked, because he honestly didn't know.

And his twin held him up and murmured: "Where you're comfortable taking it slow."


	97. Zombie Apocalypse AU

**AN: Instead of doing my homework, I killed my feels writing this. Whyyyy.  
><strong>

**WARNING for zombies, gore, violence, and character death.**

**This chapter is it's own separate AU in and of itself. It should probably be its own story entirely, but posting new stories is so much work, so I'm just posting it as a chapter of this.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span><strong>Zombie Apocalypse AU (the things I'd do for you)<br>**

Nobody knew exactly how the zombie apocalypse started.

Oh, there were many theories, but that was for geniuses like Tony Stark and Hank Pym and Reed Richards and whoever else to worry about.

All Tommy cared about was the fact the world was overrun by zombies, and the undead needed to be permanently put to rest.

Good thing the undead stayed dead when you kinetically exploded them. So Tommy was good on weapons.

Teddy had taken to carrying a large ax around to bash zombie brains with.

Noh-Varr had his guns.

Kate had her bow and arrows.

David had all kinds of weapons he'd picked up the knowledge to use.

And Billy, well, Billy used his magic to protect them all, keeping on the defensive with forcefields and spells that boosted their powers or made their skin unbreakable so the zombies couldn't bite them or stuff like that. He also provided their transportation via teleportation.

"Billy," Tommy said, one day when they and the rest of the Young Avengers were hiding out in an underground bunker that Prodigy had known about, as they'd gotten separated from the Old Avengers at the last Superhero Vs. Zombies battle, where they'd lost several superheroes, including Captain America, of all people, and hadn't seen any of them since. They'd made the bunker their home for now. "Why can't you just, you know," Tommy waggled his fingers, "do your magicky thing and make all the zombies go away?"

Billy sighed wearily and rubbed his face, cheeks more hollowed than they had been, dark bags under his eyes. "You know why. We've gone over this. All I could do was make an illusion, like what the House of M was. The real reality always comes back in the end."

"I know," Tommy sighed, collapsing into Noh-Varr's lap because the Kree was more comfortable than the floor and Billy was taking up Teddy's lap and none of them had any qualms about personal space anymore. There was just something about a zombie apocalypse that brought people closer together.

Tommy looked like shit. Helly, they _all _looked like shit. The constant fighting and running from the zombies was taking its toll, along with the grief and fear and desperation they felt every time another superhero was lost.

Nobody was getting enough to eat. Nobody was getting enough sleep.

But Tommy though Tommy was fared fine with the lack of sleep, he was faring the worst in regard to the shortage of food, his speedster metabolism burning away his muscle mass at an alarming rate.

Noh-Varr had stopped eating edible food a while back so that more could be saved for the others, since he could digest any organic material, allowing him to survive quite well off rotting or spoiled foods, cardboard, tree bark, bones, anything, really. He was actually the only one among them who didn't look underweight, whose ribs weren't showing prominently.

Kate was probably hit hardest by the lack of sleep, being completely human. The bags beneath her eyes were like huge bruises.

Billy was a bit better because his magic naturally helped replenish needed energy to his body, and nobody could really tell what state Teddy was in because of his shapeshifting ability. He _looked _fine.

They almost never smiled anymore, except for Noh when he was listening to music, Tommy when he came back from his scavenging missions with a good haul of canned and/or dried foods, Billy and Teddy sometimes when they kissed each other senseless enough to forget the fucked up world for a bit, Kate when someone did or said something she thought was adorable.

David sure never smiled, but then, he never really smiled much even before the zombie apocalypse.

Basically, life sucked. But at least they still had each other. They always had each other, no matter if the rest of the world was lost.

Billy's mom, dad, and little brothers had been turned to zombies. Tommy had had to blow them up, and then sweep Billy and Teddy away and practically beg his twin not to hate him for 'killing' them because they were already dead.

Kate didn't care what the hell happened to her family, but Clint had been lost to the zombies early on, and that was a huge blow for her. The dog was gone too, eaten by the zombified Clint.

Tommy had actually come across and blown up the zombified Frank Shepherd, and boy had _that _been quite the reunion.

Many of David's X-Friends were zombies.

Nobody knew where the hell America or Loki, were. They'd gone completely off the map.

Many of the superhero community were zombies, now.

The world was in ruins.

There was no stopping the zombie apocalypse, now. There was no containing it.

There was no fixing it, now that Iron Man and Mr. Fantastic and pretty much all the geniuses were gone.

There was only trying to _survive _it. And they were all starting to doubt whether they'd be able to do _that _anymore, since they couldn't escape the earth what with Noh's spaceship having gotten badly damaged.

Currently, most of what they were doing was hiding, scavenging for food and water, and scavenging for parts and electronics or whatever it was Noh needed to fix his ship with David's help.

That was their goal. Fix the ship, and ditch the planet.

Just ditch the whole fucking dead earth. There was no hope for it.

"I miss the internet," Billy sighed, burying his face in Teddy's shirt that hadn't been washed for weeks.

"Me too," Teddy said, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. "And I miss movies. Restaurants."

"Dates," Billy nodded against him. "Dates that didn't just involve killing zombies."

"I miss Clint, the asshole," Kate muttered, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them, eyes saddened but dry. "And Lucky. I miss relaxing on the beach on a towel in a bikini."

"I miss concerts," Noh-Varr spoke, wrapping his arms around the scarily-skinny speedster in his lap.

"I'm hungry," Tommy said, trying hard not to whine and failing, shivering at the cold bunker even though he was wearing about three jackets that he'd scavenged from an abandoned mall. He pressed closer against the warm Kree. "I miss _food." _

"I know," Noh-Varr said, breathing pleasantly warm air against the cold skin of Tommy's face. "I'm sorry we can't do anything about that right now, but you know it's not safe to go out at night. You should try to get some sleep."

"Can't," Tommy said, curling up around his fiercely aching stomach, giving a small whine. "Too hungry. Distracted. Hurts."

"Complaining isn't going to get us anywhere," David stated, coming into the room from the adjoining chamber where the damaged spaceship was being stored and worked on. "We should all be doing something productive to our survival. For Teddy, Billy, Kate, and Tommy as well, that means getting some much-needed sleep. For Noh-Varr, that means coming with me and helping me on the ship, I think I found a way to fix that thing we were working on."

Noh removed the speedster from his lap and got to his feet, following David.

Tommy whined at the lost warmth, crawled over to grab Kate and pull her over to where Billy and Teddy were seated on the couple sleeping bags that served as a makeshift bed.

"Puppy pile?" Teddy asked, smiling tiredly.

"Heat conversation," Tommy grumbled. "It's fucking _cold _here. You're all warm. Scooch over and let Kate and I join the snuggling, ya lovebirds."

Teddy and Billy made room, and the four of them cuddled together, a mess of arms and legs and heads.

"The great Tommy Maximoff, snuggling, and not complaining about it," Kate said as she rested her head on his chest, one arm draped over him. "And all it took was a zombie apocalypse."

"Shuddup and snuggle, Kate. I'm frozen to the bones!"

* * *

><p>Sometime during the night, Noh-Varr and David had joined their cuddle-puddle, and Tommy woke up surrounded by five warm bodies, not for the first time since the whole hellish zombie thing had started, and he really didn't mind anymore. It was kinda nice.<p>

Kate had had a point, last night, about how it took a zombie apocalypse for Tommy to become okay with friendship and affection, and to finally trust his teammates fully.

He glanced at the watch on Billy's wrist.

6:16 in the morning.

Well, it should be light out, now.

Tommy squirmed, and a couple of the others shifted in their sleep.

"Guys," Tommy whispered. "It's light out." His stomach was gnawing at his insides painfully, his entire body felt weak. "Can we go get food now? Please?" His voice cracked even though he didn't want it to.

The others woke easily.

"Food," Billy agreed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"We are also in need of parts for the ship," Noh-Varr said, already wide awake and standing on his feet. "David and I are certain we will be able to fix the Kirby Engines, but we need a few things."

They were all awake now, standing, shoes pulled on, straightening out clothes and brushing hands a couple times through hair that had not seen proper attention in months.

At least it didn't take them long to get ready, now. And there were no skintight superhero costumes to shimmy into and peel off.

"Right," Billy said, much more alert than he'd been seconds ago. "Where are we gonna ransack today?"

* * *

><p>First they ransacked a grocery store they hadn't already ransacked, Noh eating whatever spoiled food he wanted while the rest of them grabbed all the canned foods and the snacks like beef jerky and chips and other packaged goods that likely hadn't perished, eating cereal dry and canned goods cold.<p>

They had breakfast right there in the grocery store, too hungry to go anywhere else, and there weren't many zombies around. Occasionally one would moan by, and Noh would shoot it in the head with one of his Tommy-termed 'space-bracelet-guns.'

It was a fair amount of food but they were all starved, and Tommy could probably have eaten it all by himself, but everyone had to have their fair share. And what each person's 'fair share' was was something always bickered about.

David always sorted out the rations, being a total genius who could do those kinds of calculations, but Billy always tried to slip Tommy extra, which Tommy always refused and slipped back to him, the both of them too stubborn.

"Dude, David gave you that," Tommy said, shoving back the can of beans. "If David gave it to you, it means that you need that food, so you should eat it."

"But David obviously hasn't been parsing food out right, because you're so much skinnier then the rest of us!" Billy snapped back, rolling the can of beans to the speedster again.

David just kept eating and didn't comment.

"I'm not taking my baby bro's food just because I have a killer metabolism!" The can rolled back to the mage's feet. "I'll survive!"

"Tommy, I can _count all of your ribs. _And your face is as gaunt as a zombie's. Take the damn food before I force feed it to you!"

The can rolled back to the speedster. "No," Tommy said, rolling it back. "You couldn't force feed it to me. You couldn't _catch _me."

"Tommy, we're going on a mission later into a heavily zombie-infested territory. If I get myself into shit, how are you going to save me if you don't have enough energy?"

The rolled across the tile floor again.

Tommy glared at his twin, growled in frustration, and then grabbed the can-opener, opened the beans and ate them in the time it took Billy to blink.

Billy looked smug, and Tommy looked away.

Billy had won, but Billy won about half the time, while Tommy won the other half, depending on who managed to out-logic the other. None of the others even commented on the routine battle anymore, much less tried to interfere.

"You know," Kate said, as she glanced at the open can of peaches she was eating out of, "I really, really miss pancakes."

"Yeah," Noh-Varr said, glancing at the dry pancake batter he was eating, because he could actually digest uncooked flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, "pancakes aren't as good this way." He finished the dry ingredients and started eating the cardboard box.

* * *

><p>David and Noh-Varr needed some very specific high-tech parts to work on the engines of the Kree's spaceship, so that meant that the Young Survivors (because they weren't really Avengers now, since there was nothing to avenge—they were just surviving) had to raid an A.I.M base.<p>

The only thing with A.I.M bases, though, was that they were filled with zombies. Lots and lots of zombies. Lots and lots of zombies in tattered, bloody, rotting yellow suits, and their beekeeper helmets had been torn off and so weren't there to hide their rotting faces.

"Yellow is not a good color on zombies," Tommy remarked, hands out and blurring in the air, a group of zombies exploding in front of him.

"Less talking, more zombie killing!" Kate shouted from her perch on the catwalk, shooting three arrows at once and hitting three different zombies in one of their eyes, the arrows going straight through their heads. They fell re-dead to the floor, but there were more to take their place even before they'd fallen.

Zombies. Zombies everywhere. Moaning and groaning and gurgling and lunging at the youth viciously, gnashing rotten teeth, hands reaching for, trying to tear, trying to bite. Their stench was suffocating, _death_ and _illness_ and _sickness_ and _rot._

"There's too many of them!" Kate said, firing arrows upon arrows into the undead hordes. "Noh and David, hurry it the fuck _up!"_

"We're _working_ on it!" Noh-Varr called, teeth gritted, a snarl on his face as he and David pulled apart some machine for whatever part they needed from it.

"We need a couple more minutes!" David said, sounding strained.

"Guys, this is bad!" Teddy shouted, in his Hulkling form and holding off the zombies with his ax. "They just keep coming!"

"Guys, I think maybe we should abort," Billy said worriedly from where he was hovering above the conflict, blue radiating from him and shining forth from his eyes, lending everyone strength and a certain amount of invulnerability.

"We've almost got it!" Noh-Varr ground out.

"Guys, I feel trapped!" Tommy said, zipping in a circles around where Noh-Varr and David were working, blowing up zombies that tried to get past that circular barrier he was creating. "And like totally screwed! I don't think even _I _could get through this many zombies unharmed!"

"Stop thinking we can't do this and just _do it!" _Kate shouted, smoothly and fluidly firing arrow upon arrow into zombie eyes, never missing. "We've done this kind of thing hundreds of times now, we can do it again!"

There was a scraping sound behind her, and Kate whirled around to see a zombie had somehow gotten up onto the catwalk with her, but even as she ripped an arrow from her quiver to jab it in the eye it was lunging for her, digging its teeth in her throat and _tearing. _

Kate _screamed, _and everything went to hell.

"_Kate!"_ Billy cried, eyes pulsing white-blue as he turned his attention to her, only be knocked out of the air by a weapon that a zombie had set off by stumbling into the button, and then Billy screamed and _fell. _

"_Billy!" _Teddy cried, growing wings and launching into the air to catch his boyfriend.

"_Fuckingshit!" _Tommy shouted as he sped up to the catwalk only to find Kate being completely torn apart, beyond saving, and so he ran back down, trying hard not to throw up. _"Fuckfuckfuckfuckingshitfuck!" _His entire body blurred as he ran around, zombies going _KA-BOOM! _

"_FuckingshitKate'sdeadfuckitfuckitallshe'sdudeshe'sKateshe's—"_

Billy was unconscious in Teddy's arms, and Teddy _didn't know what to do_, he could see Kate being torn apart by zombies, he didn't see anywhere he could put Billy but he couldn't very well fight zombies with his unconscious boyfriend in his arms, and without Billy's magic and without Teddy helping the zombies were encroaching on Noh-Varr and David, who were both fighting zombies now, and David was shouting, "Billy! Billy, abort! We've got to—"

Whatever David was about to say ended in a scream as a zombie leapt on him and bit off a chunk of his shoulder.

"_David!Ohfuckingshitnonotyoutoo!" _Tommy was shouting, bordering on hysterical as he killed zombies on ferocious autopilot, "_ShitthishasgottabeanightmareorsomethingfuckingSHITFUCKINGSHITTHISCAN'TBEGOINGTHISWRONG!"_

Noh-Varr blasted a hole in the wall, which led to outside. "Come on!" he yelled, darting outside, Tommy zooming after him, Teddy following still holding onto Billy.

Kate and David were zombie food. There was nothing that could be done for them.

"_ShitThomasdon'tfreakoutyoucanfreakoutlaterfocusonkillingzombiesdiedieDIEFUCKINGZOMBIES!" _

Zombies didn't talk, but they must have had some form of communication, because every zombie from miles around was crowding that A.I.M base, lurching at the former heroes ravenously, blank eyes and gaping rotten mouths.

They were being blown up by Tommy and blasted apart by Noh-Varr but there was no way the two of them could stand against a city-worth of zombies, and Teddy knew he needed to help but he couldn't put Billy down and everything was happening so fast and this didn't feel real but this was happening.

This was really happening.

"_NohVarrholdonwe'regettingoutofhere!" _Tommy said, grabbing the Kree and _running, _weaving through the zombies, their reaching arms, gnashing teeth, the deathly stink of their degenerating bodies, making sure not to let himself or Noh get so much as a _scratch _from the hordes of undead, and he was running through the decaying city, zombies everywhere, and Tommy's vision was going black at the edges, his limbs trembling from exhaustion, his body devouring his muscles to keep generating enough energy to keep moving, killing him from the inside out, but _NO he couldn't collapse now Noh needed him he couldn't he had to get them out of there keep going Thomas Fucking Maximoff Fucking Shepherd run run RUN KEEP RUNNING. _

But his body betrayed him and with a cry he collapsed to the ground, Noh-Varr going sprawling.

And then Noh-Varr was crouched over him, saying something, but Tommy couldn't make sense of it. The world was blurring, there were sparkles, there were blackbirds, Tommy tried to blink but everything was swimming.

And then he was being picked up and slung over a shoulder and the world was moving disconcertingly and there was a firm shoulder jabbing into his ribs.

Noh-Varr picked Tommy up and started running, but he wasn't fast enough, and there were too many zombies even for him. The zombies were everywhere, the fuckers.

There was a river up ahead, if he could just get there—

Something bit his leg and there was drums and a throbbing bass line in Noh-Varr's ears. _"Tommy,"_ he grit out, continuing to run forward, not allowing himself to stagger. The river wasn't far, just a few more steps—

A zombie launched itself onto Noh-Varr's back and the Kree threw Tommy forward, the speedster landing in the river with a _splash! _

Noh-Varr could only hope that the speedster was awake enough to stay afloat, as he turned around and was immediately overrun by zombies.

Whoever had started that legend that zombies were slow should be murdered. Horribly. Because these zombies were _not _slow.

The last thing Noh-Varr knew was the sound of guitar riffs and a bass line so heavy he could feel it in sternum, even as the bone was ripped from his chest.

* * *

><p><em>Cold wet water water drowning need air swim up up Thomas AIR—<em>

Tommy's head broke the surface, and he was able to catch a good glimpse of Noh-Varr being torn to pieces by zombies—Noh-Varr being torn to pieces by zombies? _Noh-Varr? _The genome-enhanced Kree with optimum survival traits?

The entire group had reached the conclusion that if any one of them was going to pull through this zombie apocalypse, it was going to be Noh-Varr.

But Noh-Varr was dead...

Black was crowding the gruesome picture out of Tommy's vision, and the river swept him away.

* * *

><p>Tommy woke up washed up on the bank, hacking water from his burning lungs. <em>Everythinghurt.<em>

"Oh good! You're alive!"

Tommy glanced over to see Teddy kneeling there, Billy lying unconscious on the ground beside them, and Teddy was looking at him with a smile but haunted eyes.

"They're dead," Tommy croaked, as soon as the water was all out of his lungs. He collapsed back against the bank. "They're all dead."

"Yeah..." Teddy agreed, glancing over at Billy, concern and sorrow and horror and anguish and a million other emotions creeping across his features.

"Kate... David... Noh-Varr..." Tommy whispered. "All gone. No more spaceship. No more escape."

Teddy looked at him, blue eyes wide and _tragic. _"We're all going to die, aren't we, Tommy? You and me and Billy..."

The alien glanced down at his lover, and it looked like he was dying of anguish right there. "We fucked up. We're going to die."

And that was so strange, coming from Teddy. Teddy the optimist. Teddy, the one with all the hope, who had kept the entire team from falling into despair.

Teddy, who always said there was a way. Who always had hope for the future.

And Teddy had given up.

Something surged in Tommy's chest, and he pushed himself hurriedly into a kneeling position, scrabbling for the pocket on his cargo pants, fingers fumbling with the pocket's button, finally getting it undone, and he was reaching into his pocket—

Please let it be there, please let it still be there, _PLEASE—_

Tommy let out a relieved gasp, pulling the plastic bag out of his pocket, several white pills inside.

Teddy's eyes widened. "Are those—?"

"Yeah," Tommy said quietly, looking down at the handful of white pills. "Mutant Growth Hormone. The new, stronger version. The one that makes mutant powers increase so much they go crazy. I stole them from Hank's lab, back when..."

"Dude," was all Teddy could say, his voice a stunned whisper.

Those pills were the drug that Pietro had taken, after Wanda had gotten turned into a zombie.

It was a new drug that been developed, a stronger version of the commonplace MGH, by the geniuses of the Avengers and the X-Men in order to try and increase the powers of the superheroes so that they might be able to save the world.

But somebody needed to test it. It was experimental, nobody knew the exact effects, they suspected it actually might be lethal.

Wanda was gone, and Pietro had nothing more to live for. He'd volunteered.

The drug had... well, it had worked. It had worked really well.

_Too well. _

Pietro's speed increased to such a rate that, he started running and—he was gone.

He was running at the speed of light.

Which meant that he'd _become _light. And he could travel at the speed of light around the world for millions of years, but as soon as he stopped—he was dead. Gone. Nonexistant.

He was as good as dead already. For _him, _he was already dead, however many years in the future.

The speed of light, once reached, was impossible to come back from. If the drug could do that to Pietro's powers... pushed him to his absolute limit... that being done to _anyone _would kill them.

The drug was deemed too dangerous and was destroyed—all except for what Tommy had stolen.

And now Tommy emptied those pills from the plastic bag and into his hand.

"But—" Teddy protested.

"Going the speed of light takes infinite energy," Tommy cut him off. "That's what Tony said. If it took infinite energy, then Pietro was getting the energy from _somewhere. _Maybe the air, who knows, but there was no way he could have reached that speed just from the calories he'd eaten. So that means that these pills will give me the energy I need, so I'll be able to run even in this condition," Tommy gestured at his wasted state. "Teddy," Tommy said, looking up at the alien, "I can save him. I can save Billy."

Teddy stared at him.

"You remember what Tony said," Tommy continued. "When you're at almost the speed of light, time goes slower for you than for the rest of the world. I could take Billy and run, and I think I could keep myself from going the speed of light, stay below it, so that we don't both die, but so that when I stop after a few minutes of running, years will have gone by on Earth. The zombies will all be dead without anyone else to eat. They'll die out. The world will start to heal itself again. It will be _safe. _Billy will wake up, and he'll be alive, and he can always use his powers to travel to a different dimensino or something if I dide. But it will be worth it, right?" Tommy met Teddy's blue gaze, green eyes beseeching. "I could save Billy. Otherwise, we're all going to die here anyway. The zombies haven't come yet, but they will. No more Noh and David means no spaceship, no other means of escape."

Teddy swallowed, glanced over at the unconscious mage, stroked a hand through dark, soft locks. "I want him to live," he whispered.

"I can save him," Tommy said.

Teddy looked at him, tears streaming down his face. "Do it," he whispered, taking Billy into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to his lips before handing him to the speedster.

Tommy downed the white pills dry, swallowing them down his dry throat. His eyes blazed.

And then he was gone, and Billy with him.

Teddy glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It was 11:49am, Saturday, November 28, 2015.

There were moans of zombies in the distance.

Standing up, Teddy's form shifted, shrinking, becoming bony and appearing rotten, clothes torn, flesh ripped, eyes empty, jaw gaping, teeth black and decaying.

He staggered up from the bank and through the city.

The zombies never spared him a single glance.

* * *

><p><em>Tommy felt like he was on fire.<em>

_He took his brother into his arms and ran, running like he'd never run before. _

* * *

><p>It was 6:16pm, Monday, December 17, 2025 when Teddy found them.<p>

He'd went back to that old bunker every now and then where Noh's damaged spaceship still waited, never going to be fixed.

Teddy had survived the zombies. They'd all died out with nobody else to eat, and Teddy had wandered the wilderness, mentally thanking Wolverine for all those wilderness survival training things he'd forced them to do.

Earth was unpopulated by humans and mutants, now. And somewhat surprisingly, no aliens had descended from space to take the Earth for their own. Probably considered it contaminated, now.

The cities fell to ruin, became nothing but metal skeletons, run over with plants and flowers and trees. Teddy had helped plant some of them.

There wasn't really much to do. He wandered around for ten years, and he hardly seemed to age at all—either the Kree or the Skrull DNA or maybe both—first he had simply hidden from the zombies, shapeshifitng into one whenever he needed to get near them, and he watched the zombies die off, watched the plants and animals come back.

He talked a lot to himself. He talked to animals. He didn't want to forget how to talk.

He could have killed himself, of course, but he couldn't shake the hope that if he just kept living long enough, he'd be alive when Tommy stopped running, and he could see him and Billy again.

Billy. Billy's absence was a constant ache in Teddy's chest, a hole that would not close up, even after he'd come to terms with the deaths of Kate and David and Noh and everybody else he'd ever known in the world and even those he hadn't.

He missed Billy with every fiber of his being.

There was a coyote that Teddy had fed once, and then she just started hanging around and Teddy kept feeding her, and then she had kind of adopted Teddy. Teddy called her Avenger. It felt right.

Avenger was waiting outside while Teddy went down into that metal bunker that the Young Survivors had made their home for the last horrible months of the Zombie Apocalypse, at 6:16pm, on Monday, December 17, 2025.

Teddy ran his hand across the side of the spaceship, feeling the smooth, alien metal, but the memories had been aching so long he hardly felt them anymore.

And then there was a high-pitched keening sound, a couple soft _thumps _like the sound of bodies crumpling to the floor, and Teddy whirled around to see Tommy lying on the ground with chest heaving at unfathomable speeds and eyes closed, entire body vibrating, while Billy sat there looking bewildered and shocked.

The watch on Tommy's said that it was 11:59am, Saturday, November 28, 2015.

As Teddy watched, the time turned to 12:00pm. Still Saturday, November 28, 2015.

"Tommy!" Billy cried, crawling over to his brother, grabbing his shoulders. "Tommy, you _took the same pill that killed Pietro?! What were you thinking?!" _

"Saveyou..." Tommy muttered, eyes fluttering open. Those green eyes landed on Teddy's face, and a grin stretched the speedster's mouth. "Isavedyou,bro."

Billy glanced up at what Tommy was looking at, seeing Teddy standing there with his mouth hanging open, and Billy just nodded at him and then turned his attention back to Tommy.

Teddy had wanted to rush over to his lover, but something plummeted in Teddy's stomach when Billy looked away from him like that, like he didn't even matter—until Teddy realized that for Billy, he'd seen Teddy only minutes ago. He hadn't been without him for ten years.

"Dammit, Tommy, _don't die!" _Billy was shouting at his brother, and Teddy moved his eyes from his lover to the speedster, realizing that Tommy was in the same condition that he'd been after that fight at The Day the World Ended, as Teddy had come to think about it.

Tommy was starved and sleep-deprived and looked almost like a corpse, and yet he'd still managed to run with Billy in his arms for ten minutes at a pace nearly that of the speed of light.

That realization completely floored Teddy for several moments.

"_Iwantyoutolive," _Billy was chanting over his twin, the cadaverous, limp speedster gathered in his arms and hugged to his chest. _"Iwantyoutolive. Iwantyoutoheal. Iwanttheeffectsofthatawfuldrugyoutooktogoaway. Iwantyoutoliveandhealandbeokay." _

"Stayaliveforme," Tommy whispered, lifting a hand to brush a tear from Billy's cheek._ "Please..." _

A shuddering gasp of breath, and Tommy's body stilled, his half-open eyes turning blank and devoid of life.

Billy fell over his twin's dead body and clutched it to him, sobbing, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall, his body wracking like his lungs were trying to unfurl into wings and flap violently out of his chest.

Teddy looked on, feeling a sharp pain deep in his chest that had been nothing but an empty ache for years.

Teddy didn't know what to do. He hadn't seen his boyfriend for ten years, but his boyfriend had seen him only maybe twenty minutes ago, and had just seen Kate being torn apart by zombies and had just had his soul twin die in his arms.

Teddy didn't know what to do, but he figured something was better than nothing, so he knelt down next to Billy and hugged him and Tommy's dead body. "I'm so sorry, Billy," he said, knowing that wasn't enough, that nothing he could say would _ever _be enough.

Everything felt so wrong.

But at least Billy was alive. Though how he'd live with this, Teddy had no idea. Billy was coming apart in his arms. Teddy had waited a decade to see him, and Billy was breaking apart in his arms.

Teddy felt like a stranger. "I'm so sorry..." Teddy's breath hitched.

Billy abruptly stilled his sobbing, glancing at Teddy with a tear-stained face, jaw set.

Teddy didn't know what to do.

"I can fix it," Billy said, and his chocolate eyes started glowing a blinding white-blue. _"I can fix all of it." _

Teddy didn't know what to do.

"_Kiss me," _Billy said, and then his lips were on Teddy's, and Teddy melted into the kiss and for a moment all the pain melted away and it was amazing.

And then there was a bright flash of white that permeated Teddy's entire being and the pain was entirely gone.

* * *

><p>The Demiurge walked about, the panels of the mutliverse spread beneath his feet.<p>

"So many realities..." he mused. "So many different ways this could have gone... do I want to do this? _Should _I do this?"

And there was Tommy's smile.

"_Yes," _Billy said, reaching out a hand. _"I want to do this." _

Earth-616. Saturday, March 7, 2015. 2:30pm.

The first hint the Avengers had gotten of the apocalypse to come.

Billy was sitting at the Avengers conference table next to Teddy and Tommy, all of them leaning forward with widened eyes as they listened to what Captain America was saying.

Only, this time, Billy wasn't listening. He darted out his hand to grab Tommy's, ignoring his twin's indignant squeak.

Billy's eyes shone bright blue. Like young stars. _"No more zombies." _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Literally this entire story idea came from me asking my dad, who's a physicist, about the speed of light. <strong>

**It's all SUPER CONFUSING 'cuz it's quantum physics stuff, but basically, if you hit the speed of light - well, you can only go the speed of light if you ARE light, so physical objects, or people, can't actually go the speed of light. Also, for the light photons that are traveling at the speed of light, it's like no time passes for them - the moment they're created is the same moment that they die. So you when you go the speed of light you hit something and die, and it's all instantaneous for you. So like, the light from stars that we know takes thousands of light years to reach earth - for us that light took thousands of years to get here, but for the light it took no time at all.  
><strong>

** So apparently the really interesting thing is considering what happens when you _approach_ the speed of light. Because actually, it's counter-intuitive because you'd think /more/ time would pass when you're going that fast, but as it turns out, /less/ time is passing for you than is passing for the rest of the world. So, if you could run at nearly the speed of light and you ran around the earth for what, to you, was a minute of time, it would actually be much more time for the rest of the world, so when you stopped running, years could have gone by for the rest of the world. So like, if you had twins who were born on the same day, and you sent one of them out on a spaceship that was going nearly the speed of light, and then that spaceship came back to earth, the twin who had been on the spaceship would actually be younger than the twin who had been on earth. **

** Additionally, time and space are related, and that's where the fourth-dimension thing that I don't really understand comes in, and there's something about the way time passes having to do with gravity, which is why clocks in space are off from clocks on earth, because they're not as affected by earth's gravity. It's all very confusing and I don't understand it at like all. But apparently even scientists who study quantum physics their entire lives are bewildered by it, and if you think you understand quantum physics than you actually have no freakin' clue.**

**But it inspired me to write something where Tommy runs at almost the speed of light. But he need a good reason to do it. So then this zombie apocalypse AU happened. And some of the other Young Avengers made appearances. And everything got super angsty and sad and KILLED ME and all of this because Ophelia Lokisdottir wondered what would happen if Tommy actually ran at the speed of light and so I asked my dad about it and he gave me an awesome and incredibly confusing explanation that inspired me and then THIS HAPPENED and I didn't get any homework done. Ugh. **

**On another note. If anybody loves music like I do and is interested in what music I was listening to while writing this chapter, I listened to the songs "Iron" by Woodkid, and the Cold Fusion Remix of the song "Zombie" by The Cranberries. **


End file.
